1 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 


BY 

JOHAN  BOJER 

t  | 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  GREAT  HUNGER" 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  NORWEGIAN 

BY 

JESSIE  MUIR 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

HALL  CAINE 


NEW  YORK 

MOFFAT,  YARD  AND  COMPANY 

1920 


COPYRIGHT 

BY 
JOHAN    BOJER 


PHnted'in  the  United  States  of  America 


TO 
MRS.  MARTHA  ARMITAGE 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATED  IN 

GRATEFUL  REMEMBRANCE 

BY 

THE  AUTHOR 


423875 


INTRODUCTION 

This  is  a  great  book.  I  can  have  no  hesita- 
tion whatever  in  saying  that.  Rarely  in 
reading  a  modern  novel  have  I  felt  so  strong 
a  sense  of  reality  and  so  deep  an  impression 
of  motive.  It  would  be  difficult  to  praise 
too  highly  the  power  and  the  reticence  of 
this  story. 

When  I  compare  it  with  other  Norwegian 
novels,  even  the  best  and  by  the  best-known 
writers,  I  feel  that  it  transcends  them  in  its 
high  seriousness,  and  in  the  almost  relentless 
strength  with  which  its  dominant  idea  is  car- 
ried through.  Its  atmosphere  is  often  won- 
derful, sometimes  startling,  and  its  structure 
is  without  any  fault  that  has  betrayed  itself 
to  me. 

Of  isolated  scenes  of  beauty  and  pathos  it 
has  not  a  few,  and  its  closeness  to  nature  in 
little  things  fills  its  pages  with  surprises.  All 
its  characters  bear  the  stamp  of  truth,  and 


Introduction 


some  of  them  are  deeply  impressive,  espe- 
cially, perhaps,  that  of  Fru  Wangen,  a  tragic 
figure  of  a  woman,  never  to  be  forgotten  as 
long  as  memory  lasts. 

Its  theme  is  a  noble  one.  That  an  evil  act  is 
irrevocable,  that  no  retractation  and  no  peni- 
tence can  wipe  it  out;  that  its  consequences, 
and  the  consequences  of  its  consequences, 
must  go  on  and  on  for  ever — this  may  not  be 
a  new  thing  to  say,  but  it  is  a  fine  thing  to 
have  finely  said. 

I  might  easily  dwell  on  the  passages,  and 
they  are  many,  which  have  moved  me  to  the 
highest  admiration — the  passages  with  the  old 
pensioners,  the  passages  ^especially  the  last  of 
them,  at  night  and  in  bed)  between  the 
accused  man  and  his  great-hearted  wife.  But 
this  would  be  a  long  task,  and  I  am  compelled 
to  address  myself  to  a  part  of  my  duty  which 
may  appear  to  be  less  gracious. 

When  I  ask  myself  what  is  the  effect  of  tl  is 
book,  its  net  result,  its  ultimate  teaching,  I  am 
confronted  by  a  number  of  questions  which  I 
find  it  hard  to  answer  with  enthusiasm. 

This  is  the  story  of  a  man  who  signs  his 


Introduction 


name  as  bond  for  a  friend,  and  then,  when  the 
friend  becomes  bankrupt,  denies  that  he  has 
done  so  and  accuses  the  friend  of  forgery.  In 
the  end  the  innocent  man  is  committed  to 
prison  and  the  guilty  one  is  banqueted  by  his 
fellow-townsmen. 

So  far  the  subject  of  the  book  cannot 
antagonize  anybody.  That  the  right  may  be 
worsted  in  the  battle  of  life  and  the  wrong 
may  triumph  is  a  fact  of  tremendous  signifi- 
cance, capable  of  treatment  as  great,  as  help- 
ful, and  as  stimulating  as  that  of  the  Book 
of  Job.  It  is  against  the  moral  drawn  by  the 
author  from  this  fact  of  life  that  some  of  us 
may  find  reason  to  rebel. 

If  I  read  this  wonderful  book  aright,  it  says 
as  its  final  word  that  a  life  of  deception  does 
not  always  wither  up  and  harden  the  human 
heart,  but  sometimes  expands  and  softens  it; 
that  a  man  may  pass  from  lie  to  lie  until  he  is 
convinced  that  he  is  as  white  as  an  angel,  and, 
having  betrayed  himself  into  a  belief  in  his 
innocence,  that  he  may  become  generous, 
unselfish,  and  noble. 

On  the  other  hand,  this  book  says,  if  I  do 


Introduction 


not  misunderstand  it,  that  the  sense  of  inno- 
cence in  an  innocent  man  may  be  corrupting 
and  debasing;  that  to  prove  himself  guiltless 
a  man  may  make  himself  guilty,  and  that 
nearly  every  good  and  true  impulse  of  the 
heart  may  be  whittled  away  by  the  suspicion 
and  abuse  of  the  world. 

I  confess,  though  I  am  here  to  introduce 
this  book  to  English  readers,  and  do  so  with 
gladness  and  pride,  that  this  is  teaching  of 
which  I  utterly  disapproved.  It  conflicts  with 
all  my  experience  of  life  to  think  that  a  man 
may  commit  forgery,  as  Wangen  does,  to 
prove  himself  innocent  of  forgery,  and  that  a 
man  may  become  unselfish,  as  Norby  becomes 
unselfish,  by  practising  the  most  selfish 
duplicity.  If  I  had  to  believe  this  I  should 
also  have  to  believe  that  there  is  no  knowledge 
of  right  and  wrong  in  the  heart  of  man,  no 
sense  of  sin,  that  conscience  is  only  a  juggling 
fiend,  and  that  the  presiding  power  in  the 
world  not  only  is  not  God,  but  the  devil. 

I  hold  it  to  be  entirely  within  the  right  of 
the  artist  to  show  by  what  machinations  of  the 
demon  of  circumstance  the  bad  man  may 


Introduction 


be  raised  up  to  honour  and  the  good  man 
brought  down  to  shame,  but  I  also  hold  it  to 
be  the  first  and  highest  duty  of  the  artist  to 
show  that  victory  may  be  worse  than  defeat, 
success  more  to  be  feared  than  failure,  and 
that  it  is  better  to  lie  with  the  just  man  on  his 
dunghill  than  to  sit  with  the  evil  one  on  his 
throne. 

That  is,  in  my  view,  what  great  art  is  for — 
to  lift  us  above  and  beyond  the  transient  fact, 
the  mere  semblance  and  form  of  things,  and 
show  the  essence  of  truth  which  life  so  often 
hides.  Without  it  I  find  no  function  for  art 
except  that  of  the  photographer,  however 
faithful,  the  reproducer  and  transcriber  of 
just  what  they  can  see. 

All  the  same,  I  recognize  the  plausibility  of 
quite  other  views,  and  I  know  that  the  opin- 
ions both  on  art  and  life  of  the  author  of  this 
book,  so  far  as  they  have  revealed  themselves 
to  me,  are  such  as  receive  the  warm  support 
of  some  of  the  wisest  and  best  minds  of  our 
time. 

It  does  not  surprise  me  to  hear  that  the 
Academy  of  France  has  lately  crowned  "The 


Introduction 


Power  of  a  Lie,"  for  both  its  morality  and  its 
excelling  power  are  of  the  kind  which  at  the 
present  moment  appeal  most  strongly  to  the 
French  mind.  That  they  will  also  appeal  to 
a  certain  side  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind  I 
confidently  believe ;  and  I  am  no  less  sure  that 
however  a  reader  may  revolt  against  certain 
aspects  of  the  teaching  of  this  fine  book,  he 
will  find  that  it  stirs  and  touches  him  and 
makes  him  think. 

HALL  CAINE. 
ISLE  OF  MAN. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  night  was  falling  as  Knut  Norby  drove 
homewards  in  his  sledge  from  a  meeting  of 
the  school  committee.  The  ice  on  Lake 
Mjosen  had  not  been  safe  for  some  little  time, 
and  he  had  promised  his  wife  to  go  round  by 
the  high-road.  But  various  annoyances  in  the 
course  of  the  day  had  irritated  the  old  man, 
and  down  by  the  craggy  promontory  he  sud- 
denly tightened  the  reins  and  turned  off  on  ta 
the  ice.  "It  has  borne  others  already  to-day," 
he  thought,  "and  there  is  no  reason  why  it 
shouldn't  bear  me."  The  horse  pricked  up  its 
ears,  and  stepped  timidly  over  the  rough  ice; 
but  Knut  roused  it  with  a  smart  touch  of  the 
whip,  and  the  sledge  bounded  from  hummock 
to  hummock  until  it  reached  the  smooth,  shin- 
ing surface  of  the  lake. 

When  one  annoyance  follows  close  upon 
another,  the  feeling  induced  is  like  that  of  a 
blow  falling  upon  a  place  where  there  is  a 
already.  First  of  all  to-day,  the  old 


The  Power  of  a  Lie 


man  had  been  outvoted  in  a  school  committee 
matter;  it  was  against  that  wretched  parish 
schoolmaster.  When,  in  the  midst  of  this 
annoyance,  his  son-in-law  came  and  asked  for 
a  fresh  advance  upon  his  inheritance,  it 
seemed  to  the  old  man  like  downright  extor- 
tion; but  when,  an  hour  later,  he  heard  that 
Wangen,  the  merchant,  had  failed,  the  couple 
of  thousand  krones  for  which  he  himself  was 
liable  assumed  the  proportions  of  an  over- 
whelming calamity.  "I  shall  soon  be  keep- 
ing half  the  parish,"  he  thought.  "People 
really  seem  to  be  doing  their  very  best  to  rob 
me  of  my  last  shilling." 

The  horse  was  a  long,  black  stallion,  with 
a  red-brown  wavy  mane  and  easy  motion. 
The  old  man  himself  was  almost  hidden  in  a 
great  bearskin  coat  with  the  collar  turned  up. 
The  darkness  was  beginning  to  fall  out  on  the 
ice,  and  one  by  one  lights  appeared  in  the 
farms  upon  the  snow-covered  country  sur- 
rounding the  bay. 

"And  how  when  my  wife  gets  to  know  of 
this?"  he  thought,  as  the  sledge-bells  jingled 
and  the  ice  flew  from  the  horse's  hoofs.  He 


The  Power  of  a  Lie 


had  put  his  name  to  Wangen's  paper  without 
her  knowledge.  It  must  have  been  about 
three  or  four  years  ago,  and  the  guarantee 
was  to  help  Wangen  to  obtain  larger  credit 
with  a  merchant  in  the  capital.  And  even 
earlier  than  that,  he  had  promised  his  wife  not 
to  stand  surety  for  any  one  at  all,  for  they  had 
lost  quite  enough.  And  now?  "How  in  the 
world  did  he  manage  to  fool  me  that  time?" 
thought  Knut.  •  But  even  the  wisest  men  have 
their  weak  moments  when  they  are  good  and 
kind.  They  were  both  in  town,  and  Wangen 
had  stood  a  good  dinner  at  the  Carl  Johan 
Hotel.  And  afterwards — this  happened.  That 
had  been  an  expensive  dinner !  And  now  with 
the  feeling  of  dread  at  the  prospect  of  having 
to  stand  shamefaced  before  his  wife,  and  con- 
fess that  he  had  broken  his  word,  Norby  felt 
a  rising  dislike  to  Wangen,  who  was  of  course 
to  blame  for  it  all.  "He  knew  what  he  was 
about,  that  fellow,  with  his  dinner!"  And 
involuntarily  the  old  man  began  to  recall  a 
number  of  bad  things  about  Wangen;  there 
was  a  kind  of  self-defence  in  feeling  enraged 
with  him. 


6  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

The  shadows  of  the  fir-trees  grew  black, 
and  the  stars  came  out ;  while  a  fiery  streak  in 
the  west  glowed  through  the  darkness  and 
threw  a  glare  upon  the  ice.  It  shone  upon  the 
plating  of  the  harness  and  sledge,  and  cast 
long  shadows  of  man  and  horse,  that  steadily 
kept  pace  with  their  owners.  Scarcely  a  liv- 
ing being  was  to  be  seen  on  the  desolate 
expanse.  A  solitary  fisherman  was  visible  at 
his  hole  far  out,  where  the  red  reflection  met 
the  pointed  shadows  of  the  mountains;  and 
out  at  the  promontory  might  be  seen  a  little 
dot  of  a  man  moving  out  from  the  land,  drag- 
ging a  sledge  after  him. 

"And  Herlufsen  of  Rud!  Won't  he  be 
delighted!" 

Norby,  being  himself  of  a  combative  dis- 
position and  hard  in  his  dealings  with  others, 
imagined  that  a  number  of  persons  were 
always  on  the  watch  to  pick  a  quarrel  with 
him.  If  he  did  a  good  stroke  of  business  in 
timber,  his  first  feeling  was  one  of  satisfaction 
as  he  thought:  "How  they  will  envy  me!" 
And  in  unfortunate  transactions  he  did  not 
care  a  rap  about  the  money  Ke  lost;  he  was 


The  Power  of  a  IAe 


only  troubled  at  the  thought  that  it  was  now 
the  turn  of  other  people  to  exult. 

He  was  now  out  in  the  middle  of  the  ice, 
aad  had  passed  from  the  fiery  reflection  into 
the  dark  shadows.  The  horse  heard  sledge- 
bells  near  the  shore,  and  without  slackening 
its  pace  raised  its  head  and  neighed.  "Sup- 
pose the  ice  were  to  give  way!"  thought  the 
old  man  with  a  cold  shiver  of  apprehension. 
His  father,  a  wealthy  old  peasant,  was  once 
driving  a  heavy  load  of  polished  granite 
blocks  across  the  lake.  When  the  ice  began 
to  give  loud  reports  and  to  bend  under  the 
weight,  the  old  man,  unwilling  to  throw  off 
any  of  the  valuable  blocks  in  order  to  lighten 
the  load,  knelt  down  and  prayed:  "If  only 
Thou  wilt  let  me  get  safely  to  land,  I'll  send 
ten  bushels  of  iny  best  barley  to  the  pastor." 
He  got  to  land;  but  when  he  stood  on  the 
shore,  he  looked  back  across  the  ice  with  a 
chuckle,  saying:  "I  had  Him  there!"  And 
the  pastor  got  no  barley. 

The  sledge-bells  rang  out  their  clear, 
bright,  silvery  tones,  but  all  the  time  the  old 
man  sat  thinking  the  ice  was  giving  way. 


8  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"If  I  go  through,  it  will  probably  be 
because  I  didn't  want  to  go  to  the  sacrament 
next  Sunday,"  he  thought;  for  when  he  left 
home  he  had  half  promised  his  wife  to  call  at 
the  clerk's  and  give  in  their  names  for  the 
sacrament.  But  at  the  last  moment  the  old 
pagan  had  come  to  life  within  him,  and  he  had 
driven  past  the  clerk's  house. 

"It's  against  my  conscience,"  he  had  said  to 
himself.  "I  don't  believe  in  the  sacrament, 
scarcely  in  the  redemption  even." 

There  were  two  different  men  in  Knut 
Norby.  One  of  these  had  acquired  ideals  at 
school  at  the  parsonage,  in  his  travels,  and 
from  all  kinds  of  books.  But  when,  on  the 
death  of  his  father,  Knut  had  had  to  take  over 
the  farm,  he  had  little  by  little  developed  some 
traits  of  his  father's  character.  The  old  man 
still  seemed  present  among  the  farm-hands,  in 
the  bank-books,  in  the  great  forest,  in  unset- 
tled bargains,  and  above  all  in  the  Norby 
family's  standing  in  the  country-side.  It 
seemed  natural  to  Knut  to  continue  to  be  a 
part  of  his  father,  and  often,  when  he  was 
about  to  settle  some  new  timber  transaction, 


The  Power  of  a  Lie 


he  would  suddenly  feel  as  if  he  actually  were 
that  father,  and  would  involuntarily  see  with 
his  father's  eyes,  use  his  father's  artifices,  and 
have  his  father's  conscience.  The  other  Knut 
Norby  busied  himself  with  books  and  with 
political  and  religious  questions,  whenever  the 
first  had  nothing  to  do. 

"I  ought  to  have  given  in  our  names  for 
that  sacrament  all  the  same,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, when  he  saw  that  he  was  still  a  long  way 
from  the  shore.  "It's  all  very  well  with  ideas 
and  that  sort  of  thing;  but  it's  not  at  all  cer- 
tain they'll  be  enough  when  we  come  before 
the  judgment-seat."  However,  there  would 
still  be  time  to  send  word  to  the  clerk,  if  only 
he  got  safely  to  land. 

At  last  he  reached  the  firm,  frosty  high- 
road, and  breathed  freely  once  more.  He  let 
the  horse  walk,  as  it  was  in  a  perspiration ;  but 
it  wanted  to  get  home  to  its  stable,  and  soon 
broke  into  a  trot  again. 

In  the  wood  the  sledge-bells  sounded  loud 
and  clear.  The  fir-trees  stretched  their  snow- 
laden  branches  overhead,  leaving  here  and 
there  a  glimpse  of  the  starry  sky  above. 


10  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

Norby  was  now  passing  farms  with  lights 
in  the  windows.  The  largest  of  them,  stand- 
ing up  on  the  hill,  was  Rud,  which  Norby's 
enemies  maintained  was  larger  than  Norby's 
place.  It  was  here  that  his  great  rival  lived, 
the  wealthy  Mads  Herluf  sen  of  Rud. 

Norby  could  see  this  farm  from  his  own 
sitting-room  window;  and  as  time  went  on  i| 
became  impossible  for  him  to  think  of  Herluf- 
sen  without  seeing  in  his  mind's  eye  his  farm- 
buildings,  the  woods  around,  the  hill  behind — 
the  whole  thing  like  a  troll  with  its  head 
towards  the  sky ;  and  it  was  all  Mads  Herluf- 
sen  sitting  there  and  keeping  watch  upon 
Norby. 

"And  now  when  he  hears  this,  how  he  will 
exult!" 

His  worries,  which  had  vanished  in  the  pos- 
sibility of  danger  out  on  the  ice,  now  returned, 
and  he  recollected  having  seen  Wangen  intoxi- 
cated on  several  occasions  in  town.  "And 
that's  the  man  I've  helped!" 

At  last  he  turned  up  an  avenue,  at  the  end 
of  which  could  be  seen  the  dark  mass  of  the 
Norby  buildings  against  the  fir-clad  slope.  In 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  11 

the  large  dwelling-house  there  were  lights  in 
only  two  or  three  of  the  windows.  A  large 
black  dog  came  bounding  towards  Knut  with 
delighted  barks,  leaping  up  in  front  of  the 
horse,  which  snapped  at  it. 

The  stableman  came  with  a  lantern,  and 
held  the  horse  while  Norby,  stiff  with  sitting 
still  so  long,  got  slowly  out  of  the  sledge. 

Beams  of  light  flickered  across  the  snow 
from  lanterns  passing  in  and  out  of  the  doors 
of  the  cowsheds  and  stables  that  surrounded 
the  large  farm-yard  on  three  sides.  To  the 
left  of  the  barn  stood  a  separate  little  dwell- 
ing-house, in  which  lived  as  pensioners  old 
disabled  servants,  whom  Norby  would  not 
allow  to  become  a  burden  upon  the  parish. 

"Put  a  cloth  over  the  horse,  and  don't  give 
him  water  just  yet,"  said  he  to  the  stableman, 
as,  whip  in  hand,  he  tramped  up  the  steps  to 
the  house,  followed  by  the  dog. 


CHAPTER  II 

MAEIT  NORBY  was  proud — with  the  peasant 
women,  because  she  looked  down  upon  them, 
and  with  the  wives  of  the  local  authorities, 
because  she  was  afraid  they  might  look  down 
upon  her. 

"Oh,  of  course,"  she  would  say  with  her  own 
peculiar  smile,  "we  who  live  in  the  country 
know  nothing  at  all!" 

"You  are  late,"  she  said,  when  Knut  came 
in.  She  was  sitting  with  her  knitting  in  the 
little  room  between  the  kitchen  and  the  large 
sitting-rooms.  She  wore  a  little  cap  upon  her 
silvery  hair,  like  the  pastor's  wife;  and  her 
face  was  refined  and  handsome,  with  a  firm 
mouth  and  prominent  chin. 

"The  school  meeting  was  a  lengthy  one," 
said  Knut,  as  he  stood  rubbing  his  hands  in 
front  of  the  stove. 

"How  did  it  go?"  she  asked,  meaning  the 
matter  that  she  knew  Knut  had  wanted  to 
carry  in  the  school  committee  that  day. 

12 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  13 

"It  went,  of  course,  as  badly  as  it  could  go," 
said  Knut,  turning  his  back  to  the  stove. 

He  thought  he  saw  a  sarcastic  gleam  in 
his  wife's  eye  when  he  faced  her,  and  his 
anger  rose.  Was  it  not  enough  to  have  had 
strangers  worrying  him  to-day,  without  hav- 
ing his  own  people  begin  too?  Of  course  she 
thought  him  a  poor  creature;  and  what  would 
she  say  when  she  heard  about  Wangen? 

"It  seems  to  me  you  always  lose,  Knut," 
she  said,  sticking  a  knitting-needle  into  her 
hair. 

"Always?    No,  indeed  I  do  not!" 

She  knew  that  tone,  and  added  adroitly,  as 
she  took  the  knitting-needle  out  again  and 
went  on  knitting: 

"Yes,  you  are  always  so  much  too  good, 
while  those  who  don't  possess  a  penny,  and 
don't  pay  a  farthing  in  taxes,  govern  us  and 
order  us  about,  and  we  have  just  to  say 
'Thank  you'  and  pay." 

This  was  a  healing  balm,  as  she  gave  ex- 
pression to  the  very  sentiment  that  Norby 
himself  was  accustomed  to  propound. 

"I  suppose  you've  heard  what  has  happened 


14  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

to  Wangen,"  she  said,  smiling  grimly  at  her 
knitting. 

"She  knows  it,  then,  confound  it!"  thought 
the  old  man.  He  was  standing  in  front  of  the 
stove  with  his  hands  behind  him,  black- 
bearded,  bald,  with  his  blue  serge  coat  but- 
toned tightly  across  his  broad  chest.  His 
large  head  drooped  wearily  upon  his  breast, 
and  he  glanced  at  his  wife  from  beneath  his 
eyebrows.  He  did  not  feel  equal  to  any 
explanations  this  evening.  He  had  been  out 
in  the  cold  for  several  hours>  and  the  warmth 
of  the  house  made  him  feel  increasingly  heavy 
and  sleepy. 

"Yes,  indeed!"  he  said  with  a  yawn;  "who 
would  have  thought  of  such  a  thing  hap- 
pening?" 

She  gave  a  little  scornful  laugh. 

"It  seems  to  me  you  have  prophesied  it 
often  enough  of  late,"  she  said.  "But  you 
may  be  glad  you've  had  nothing  to  do  with 
him." 

"She  doesn't  know,"  thought  Norby,  with  a 
feeling  of  relief. 

"Ye — es,"  he  growled  in  an  uncertain  tone 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  15 

of  voice,  his  eyes  dropping  once  more.  He 
was  not  equal  to  either  the  sacrament  matter 
or  Wangen  this  evening. 

Hearing  at  that  moment  a  well-known 
laugh  in  the  adjoining  room,  he  took  the 
opportunity  of  slipping  out. 

When  he  entered  the  next  room,  his  daugh- 
ter-in-law was  sitting  by  a  steaming  bath  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  occupied  in  undress- 
ing her  two-year-old  son,  preparatory  to  giv- 
ing him  his  bath. 

The  old  man  paused  at  the  door,  and  his 
tired  face  suddenly  lit  up. 

"Who  is  that?"  asked  the  fair-haired  young 
mother,  looking  at  the  child.  The  boy  looked 
at  his  grandfather  with  large,  round  eyes,  and 
laughed  a  little  shyly;  but  no  sooner  was  his 
vest  drawn  over  his  head  than  he  wriggled 
down  to  the  floor  to  run  to  Norby.  On  gain- 
ing his  liberty,  however,  he  discovered  the  fact 
that  he  was  naked,  and  this  was  even  more 
interesting  than  his  grandfather.  He  began 
to  run  backwards  and  forwards  upon  the  floor, 
slapping  his  little  body  and  laughing.  Then 
he  caught  sight  of  his  small  breasts,  and 


16  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

touched  them  with  his  forefinger,  then  evaded 
once  more  the  grasp  of  his  mother,  who  tried 
to  catch  him,  and  laughed  in  triumph  as  he 
escaped.  The  old  man  was  obliged  to  sit  down 
and  laugh  too. 

"Well,  I  shall  go  and  get  something  good 
from  grandfather!"  said  his  mother;  and  in  a 
twinkling  the  boy  had  climbed  upon  the  old 
man's  knee,  and  began  an  investigation  of  all 
his  pockets,  until  a  packet  of  sweets  was 
brought  to  light. 

The  boy's  name  was  Knut,  of  course.  His 
father,  Norby's  eldest  son,  had  been  thrown 
from  his  sledge  and  killed  when  driving  home 
from  Lillehammer  fair  before  the  boy  was 
born;  and  ever  since  the  old  man  had  had  a 
horror  of  strong  drink. 

A  secret  worry  very  quickly  assumes  the 
dimensions  of  an  actual  misfortune.  Just 
because  the  old  man  was  tired  and  wanted  to 
be  left  in  peace,  he  felt  the  explanation  he 
must  have  with  his  wife  to  be  doubly  painful. 
With  his  grandchild  he  always  became  a  child 
himself;  but  this  evening  he  could  see  nothing 
but  Wangen  all  the  time,  and  this  irritated 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  17 

him.  While  he  sat  and  smiled  at  the  boy,  he 
suddenly  glanced  aside,  as  much  as  to  say: 
"Cannot  you  leave  me  in  peace  even  here?" 
Wangen  penetrated,  as  it  were,  into  the  old 
man's  holy  of  holies,  and  Norby  wanted  to 
turn  him  out.  He  began  to  look  upon  Wangen 
as  his  enemy  because  he  had  brought  dissen- 
sion into  his  house,  and  because  Norby  had 
been  guilty  of  a  little  deception  towards  his 
wife,  which  would  now  have  to  be  unveiled. 

"Now  it's  time  for  the  bath,"  said  the 
mother,  taking  up  her  boy,  and  while  he 
splashed  and  screamed  in  the  water,  the  old 
man  stood  as  he  always  did,  and  laughed  until 
the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks.  But  all  the 
time  he  had  a  dim  vision  of  Wangen's  brick- 
fields, and  remembered  how  last  autumn 
Wangen  had  instituted  an  eight-hour  work- 
ing-day. It  was  just  like  the  fool!  It  would 
be  a  nice  thing  to  be  a  farmer  if  such  mad 
ideas  spread  and  made  labour  conditions  even 
worse  than  they  were !  Was  it  to  be  wondered 
at  if  such  men  went  bankrupt?  But  it  wasn't 
his  fault  if  Wangen  said  more  than  he  meant 
on  that  subject  when  it  was  a  question  of 


18  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

inducing  people  to  stand  surety  for  him.  And 
the  old  man  began  to  pace  the  floor. 

"Won't  grandfather  say  good-night  to  us?" 
said  his  daughter-in-law,  as  the  old  man  went 
to  the  door  as  if  about  to  rush  out  in  a  rage. 
Norby  woke  up.  The  boy  was  ready  for  bed, 
and  was  stretching  out  his  arms  towards  him. 

The  family  had  supper  in  the  little  room 
between  the  kitchen  and  the  large  rooms. 
Since  the  new  house  had  been  built,  they  had 
been  literally  homeless,  for  none  of  them  were 
at  ease  in  the  large,  sparely  furnished  rooms, 
and  they  were  too  much  cramped  for  space  in 
the  little  room.  The  hanging  lamp  with  its 
glass  pendants  shed  its  light  upon  the  tea- 
things  and  the  white  cloth,  and  a  large  copper 
kettle  shone  upon  the  old  sideboard.  Five 
people  sat  down  to  supper.  There  were  the 
two  daughters,  Ingeborg  and  Laura,  who  sat 
one  on  each  side  of  their  father;  opposite  him 
sat  his  wife,  with  a  silver  chain  about  her  neck, 
and  a  reserved  expression  on  her  face,  and  her 
daughter-in-law  by  her  side.  They  still  had 
one  son  living,  but  he  was  in  Christiania 
studying  philology. 


The  Power  of  a  Lae  19 

"I  must  get  you  to  put  out  my  forest 
clothes  this  evening,"  said  Norby  to  Inge- 
borg;  "I  must  go  and  see  to  the  timber-felling 
in  the  morning." 

Ingeborg  was  the  good  angel  of  the  house. 
Her  fiance,  a  young  doctor,  had  been  found 
dead  in  his  bed  three  days  before  their  wed- 
ding, and  since  then  she  had  never  been  the 
same.  Although  she  was  not  much  more  than 
five-and-twenty,  her  hair  was  sprinkled  with 
grey,  her  cheeks  were  hollow,  and  her  eyes 
had  a  timid,  far-away  look  in  them.  She  was 
worrying  already  as  to  what  would  become  of 
her  when  her  parents  died ;  and  in  order  to  run 
no  risk  of  being  left  with  a  bad  conscience,  she 
was  constantly  occupied  in  attending  to  their 
wants,  was  the  first  up  in  the  morning,  was 
always  busy  in  the  kitchen  and  larder,  shed 
tears  of  despair  when  she  had  forgotten  any- 
thing, and  in  spite  of  all  this  thought  herself 
quite  useless  in  the  house. 

"Do  you  eat  as  inelegantly  when  you  are 
in  town  as  you  do  here?"  said  the  mother  to 
Laura,  looking  sternly  at  her. 

Laura  looked  a  little  embarrassed,  and  tried 


20  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

to  throw  an  obstinate  lock  of  hair  off  her  rosy 
face;  but  she  was  not  long  in  regaining  her 
cheerfulness. 

She  went  to  school  in  town,  and  now  began 
to  talk  about  her  old  teacher  and  her  mincing 
ways,  her  snuff-box  and  her  inky  fingers, 
"Dear  children,"  she  mimicked,  making  an 
exceedingly  funny  face,  and  pretending  to 
take  a  pinch  of  snuff;  "do  sit  still  and  don't 
give  me  so  much  trouble!"  Her  sister-in-law 
laughed,  showing  as  she  did  so  the  absence  of 
a  front  tooth ;  her  mother  could  not  help  smil- 
ing, and  even  the  old  man  glanced  merrily  at 
the  lively  girl. 

"I  will  write  to  him  to-morrow,"  he  said  to 
himself  as  he  emptied  his  cup.  "I  am  sure  it 
was  not  more  than  two  thousand,  and  if  there 
is  more " 

When  at  last  he  got  into  bed  in  his  room  on 
the  first  floor,  he  put  out  the  light  on  the  table 
by  his  bedside,  and  yawned  wearily.  "I'll  pre- 
tend to  be  asleep  when  she  comes  up,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "and  then  I  shall  be  spared  both 
sacrament  and  guarantee  for  this  evening." 

As  he  lay  looking  at  the  red  glow  from  the 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  21 

half-closed  draught  of  the  stove,  the  door 
opened,  and  Laura  crept  softly  in.  She  seated 
herself  on  the  edge  of  her  father's  bed,  stroked 
his  beard  two  or  three  times,  and  then  con- 
fided to  him  in  a  whisper  that  her  monthly 
account  was  in  terrible  disorder.  Her  mother 
had  not  gone  over  it  yet,  but  she  might  ask  for 
it  any  day  now. 

"And  you  think  you  can  cheat  me  as  much 
as  you  like,  do  you?"  said  the  old  man  from  his 
pillows.  The  child  withdrew  her  hand  from 
his  beard  in  some  confusion,  but  he  caught  it, 
and  as  he  felt  how  small  and  soft  it  was,  he 
said  in  a  sleepy  voice: 

"You  must  come  into  my  office  to-morrow, 
then,  and  we  shall  see!" 

The  girl  stroked  his  beard  once  more,  and 
laid  her  cheek  against  his,  for  she  knew  now 
that  her  deficit  would  be  made  good. 

She  had  scarcely  gone  when  the  door 
opened  again.  The  old  man  hastily  closed  his 
eyes;  but  it  was  Ingeborg  with  the  clothes  he 
had  asked  for  upon  her  arm. 

"Isn't  some  one  crossing  the  yard  with  a 


22  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

lantern?"  asked  her  father,  seeing  a  light  upon 
the  blind. 

"Yes,  it's  the  dairymaid,"  said  Ingeborg; 
"she's  expecting  a  calf  to-night." 

And  now  Ingeborg  too  came  and  sat  upon 
his  bed. 

"There's  something  I  must  tell  you,  father," 
she  began  softly.  "When  I  was  at  the  post- 
office  to-day,  I  heard  that  Lawyer  Basting 
had  been  declaring  that  you  would  suffer  too 
by  this  failure.  I  didn't  dare  to  tell  mother 
until  I  had  spoken  to  you  about  it." 

The  old  man  had  made  up  his  mind  to  be 
left  in  peace  for  this  evening,  so  he  said: 

"Poor  Basting!  He's  always  got  some- 
thing or  other  to  chatter  about." 

"I  was  sure  it  was  untrue,"  said  Ingeborg, 
rising;  and  after  drawing  the  blind  farther 
down,  she  quietly  left  the  room  again. 

The  next  morning,  before  Norby  rose,  his 
wife  asked  him  whether  he  had  remembered 
to  call  at  the  clerk's.  Upon  his  saying  that  he 
had  not,  a  scene  ensued,  and  Marit  left  the 
room,  slamming  the  door  behind  her,  and 
threatening  to  go  to  the  sacrament  alone 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  23 

Norby  lay  in  bed  longer  than  usual,  for 
when  Marit  was  thoroughly  roused,  as  she  was 
to-day,  she  would  sometimes  not  utter  a  word 
for  a  week  at  a  time;  and  then  neither  of  them 
was  willing  to  stoop  low  enough  to  be  the  first 
to  bridge  the  gulf  that  separated  them,  and 
break  the  silence. 

When  at  last  he  came  down  and  went  out 
into  the  yard,  one  of  the  men  came  up  to  him 
and  asked  with  a  knowing  smile  whether  it 
were  really  true  that  Wangen  had  forged 
somebody's  signature. 

"It  would  be  very  like  him  if  he  had!"  said 
Norby,  looking  up  at  the  sky  to  see  if  it  were 
weather  for  tree-felling.  The  man,  who  was 
busied  in  shovelling  the  snow  from  the  road, 
leaned  upon  his  spade,  and  looking  askance  at 
the  old  man,  continued: 

"We've  heard  that  it's  your  name.  He's 
been  boasting  that  it's  Norby  himself  that  is 
surety  for  him;  but  now  we  hear  from  the 
house  servants  that  it's  a  lie." 

"It's  no  business  of  that  idiot's  anyhow!" 
thought  the  old  man,  and  passed  on  without 
answering. 


24  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

But  on  going  round  by  the  barn,  where 
threshing  was  in  progress,  he  had  the  same 
question  of  Wangen's  forgery  put  to  him. 
He  still  made  no  answer,  but  plunged  his 
hand  into  the  grain  at  the  back  of  the  ma- 
chine, whereupon  an  old  labourer  said,  as  he 
scratched  his  head : 

"Well,  well ;  haven't  I  always  said  that  man 
would  see  the  inside  of  a  prison  some  day?" 

This,  however,  made  Norby  a  little  uneasy. 
"If  it  comes  out  that  I  have  circulated  a 
report  like  that,"  he  thought,  "he  can  make  it 
unpleasant  for  me,  and  give  people  enough  to 
talk  about."  He  was  on  the  point  of  nipping 
the  report  in  the  bud  by  explaining  matters, 
when  he  caught  sight,  through  the  barndoor, 
of  the  smith  going  along  the  road  with  a  sack 
upon  his  back. 

"Has  the  smith  been  in  here?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  was  the  answer  from  several  voices 
amidst  the  rustling  of  straw  in  the  half- 
darkness. 

"Then  he  knows  it  too!"  thought  Norby; 
"and  by  the  evening  it  will  be  all  over  the 
parish.  I  must  stop  the  smith ! — Why,  he  was 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  25 

to  have  come  and  done  the  new  sledges  T  he 
said  aloud  as  a  pretext  for  rushing  out  and 
hastening  down  the  road  after  the  smith. 

The  snow-plough  had  not  been  driven  along 
the  road  since  the  fall  during  the  night,  and  it 
was  heavy  walking  and  still  heavier  running. 
The  farther  the  old  man  ran,  the  angrier  he 
became.  "Here  am  I  running  like  a  mad- 
man," he  thought,  "and  all  because  I've 
helped  that  rogue! — Ola,  Ola!"  he  shouted, 
waving  his  hand. 

But  the  sack  on  the  smith's  back  oould 
neither  see  nor  hear,  and  the  old  man  had  to 
go  on  running.  The  tale  must  be  stopped,  or 
he  might  have  to  pay  dearly  for  it. 

At  last  the  smith  stopped  because  he  met  a 
man  on  ski;  but  before  Norby  came  up  to 
them  the  man  had  gone  on  down  the  hill. 

"What's  this  I  hear?"  said  the  smith,  ad- 
vancing a  few  steps  towards  Norby.  "That 
Wangen  is  a  nice  fellow,  he  is!  He's  fleeced 
me  too.  IVe  just  'got  a  bill  from  him  for  a 
sack  of  rye-flour  that  I  paid  for  down!" 

"It's  a  lie!"  cried  Norby,  thinking  of  the 
forgery,  and  breathless  after  his  run. 


26  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"A  lie?  No,  indeed  it's  not;  it's  as  true  as 
I'm  standing  here!"  said  the  smith,  thinking 
of  his  flour. 

But  now  the  old  man  recollected  the  man 
on  ski. 

"Did  you  tell  that  man  about  Wangen?" 
he  asked. 

"Yes,  indeed  I  did,"  said  the  smith.  "Ah, 
they're  bad  times,  these!" 

Norby  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face, 
removing  his  cap  and  wiping  the  crown  of  his 
head,  as  he  turned  and  gazed  after  the  man 
on  ski,  who  was  now  gaily  scudding  down 
towards  the  fjord,  raising  a  cloud  of  snow  as 
he  went.  And  that  story  was  flying  down 
with  him! 

Knut  Norby  stood  there  utterly  helpless, 
gazing  after  him. 

"It's  no  use  now  my  making  a  fool  of 
myself  either  to  the  smith  or  the  men,"  he  said 
to  himself;  "for  the  devil  himself 's  gone  off 
with  the  report,  and  I'm  in  a  pretty  fix!" 

"You  were  calling  to  me,  weren't  you?" 
said  the  smith.  "Was  there  anything  you 
wanted?" 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  27 

"Yes,  there  was!"  cried  the  old  man,  turn- 
ing upon  him  angrily.  "Confound  you! 
YouVe  promised  for  months  past  to  come  and 
fix  up  my  sledges;  but  you're  a  rascal,  that's 
what  you  are!  You  owe  me  money  and  you 
won't  pay.  I'll  set  the  bailiff  upon  you  this 
very  day!"  And  Norby  set  off  homewards, 
leaving  the  smith  standing  with  his  sack  on  his 
back,  staring  after  him. 

"This  forgery  must  have  made  him  daft!" 
he  thought,  as  he  turned  and  went  slowly  on 
his  way. 


CHAPTER  III 

Ag  Knut  plodded  homewards,  he  felt  like  a 
man  whose  hat  has  been  blown  off  his  head, 
and  who  cannot  find  out  which  way  it  has 
gone.  He  could  not  conceive  how  this  rumour 
about  Wangen's  forgery  had  arisen,  but  at 
the  same  time  he  felt  that  in  reality  he  himself 
was  responsible  for  it.  It  was  of  course  the 
women-folk  who  had  misunderstood  him  yes- 
terday evening  when  he  was  tired  and  wanted 
to  be  quiet.  And  then  it  had  gone  by  way  of 
the  kitchen  to  the  farm-hands.  And  by  the 
evening  the  whole  parish  would  be  full  of  the 
story,  for  it  would  be  quite  a  tit-bit  to  carry 
about.  AndWangen?  Of  course  he  would  take 
the  opportunity  to  bring  an  action  against 
Norby.  He  almost  wished  he  had  had  a  rifle 
in  his  hand,  so  that  he  could  have  shot  the  man 
on  ski,  who  was  flying  along  with  that  con- 
founded story.  If  he  had  not  existed,  Norby 
would  have  had  the  hard  task  of  going  to  his 
men  and  saying:  "This  is  a  misunderstanding 

28 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  29 

about  Wangen.  I  am  actually  surety  for 
him;  he  has  not  forged  my  signature/'  But 
now  there  would  be  the  whole  parish  to  go  to, 
and  the  thought  of  it  made  him  furious. 

He  first  turned  his  steps  towards  the  kitchen 
entrance,  to  give  the  maid-servants  a  scolding, 
but  stopped  half-way  across  the  yard.  "If 
there's  going  to  be  any  unpleasantness  over 
this,"  he  thought,  "I  shall  have  to  bear  the 
brunt  of  it,  after  all,  and  I  suppose  I'm  mas- 
ter in  my  house." 

Nothing  came  of  his  projected  forest  excur- 
sion that  day.  He  went  instead  to  the  stables, 
and  threatened  to  discharge  the  stableman 
because  a  young  horse  was  badly  curried. 
Then  he  suddenly  made  his  appearance  in  the 
barn,  just  when  the  men  were  taking  a  rest, 
and  gave  them  a  talking  to.  Finally  he  went 
into  his  office  and  began  to  write  dunning  let- 
ters to  a  number  of  his  debtors. 

"I  shall  be  fined,  of  course,  and  shall  per- 
haps have  to  make  a  retractation  in  the  news* 
paper,"  was  his  thought  all  the  time  he  was 
writing.  "This  is  all  one  gets  for  helping  such 
good-for-nothings — domestic  scenes,  loss  of 


30  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

money,  and  in  addition  to  that  you  make  a 
fool  of  yourself  and  lose  your  good  name!" 

The  door  opened,  and  to  his  great  astonish- 
ment Marit  entered.  If  she  was  going  to 
break  the  silence  already,  something  unusual 
must  be  at  the  bottom  of  it.  She  had  better 
not  come  too  and  worry  him  about  this ! 

She  stood  erect,  with  both  hands  hanging 
down  and  her  chin  thrust  forward,  and  began 
in  a  vibrating  voice : 

"I  can  see  you  intend  to  keep  this  from  me, 
but  I  just  want  to  ask  you  whether  you  are 
going  to  report  him  to  the  bailiff." 

Knut  sprang  up,  and  stood  with  legs  apart 
and  his  hands  behind  his  back. 

"To  the  bailiff?"  he  asked,  eyeing  her  over 
the  spectacles  he  used  for  writing.  "No, 
indeed;  I'm  not  quite  crazy!" 

But  'Marit  was  already  incensed  at  his  hav- 
ing failed  her  in  the  matter  of  the  sacrament, 
and  she  now  suspected  that  something  else 
was  being  kept  from  her.  She  came  a  step 
nearer. 

"You  won't?"  she  cried,  her  voice  trembling 
still  more. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  31 

The  old  man  began  to  breathe  hard.  Now 
that  he  was  angry,  her  self-importance  seemed 
both  ridiculous  and  irritating.  He  would 
never  think  of  confessing  his  misdeeds  to  this 
impertinent  creature! 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  cried, 
throwing  back  his  head,  and  glaring  at  her 
through  his  spectacles. 

"I  want  you  to  go  to  the  bailiff." 

"Leave  the  room!    I  will  be  left  in  peace  I" 

But  she  laughed  scornfully. 

"Oh,  I  see  you  would  rather  pay,  and  pay 
even  if  your  children  hadn't  a  rag  to  their 
backs!  And  after  this  any  rogue  can  make 
use  of  your  name,  and  you'll  pay!  Or" — and 
she  laughed  again,  and  looked  sharply  at  him — 
"perhaps  you  have  backed  his  bill?  Yes,  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  you're  guilty." 

The  word  "guilty"  sounded  as  if  she  sus- 
pected him  of  murder  or  theft.  He  became 
purple  with  anger,  but  could  find  no  words  to 
express  his  indignation.  Then  he  caught  his 
breath,  raised  his  arm  as  if  to  strike,  and 
pushed  her  out  of  the  room. 

Some    time    had    elapsed   when   he   heard 


32  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

sledge-bells  in  the  yard,  and  looking  out,  he 
saw  that  it  was  Marit  driving  off.  Oh,  indeed! 
They  were  beginning  to  take  the  horses  out  of 
the  stable  without  asking  his  leave,  were  they? 
"The  next  thing  she'll  take  will  be  my 
breeches/'  he  said  to  himself,  beginning  to 
pace  the  floor,  as  his  habit  was  when  angry. 

A  little  later  he  heard  the  bells  returning. 
He  did  not  look  out,  but  lay  down  upon  the 
leather  sofa  and  closed  his  eyes.  Soon  after 
he  heard  the  well-known  steps  in  the  passage, 
the  door  opened,  and  Marit  entered;  but  the 
old  man  lay  still  with  his  eyes  closed. 

She  began  at  once,  while  she  untied  the 
strings  of  her  bonnet : 

"I  know  quite  well  you're  man  enough  to 
order  me  to  leave  the  room  once  more ;  but  as 
you're  not  man  enough  to  look  after  your  own 
affairs,  I  shall  have  to  do  it  for  you;  and  as 
sure  as  I'm  mistress  in  this  house,  this  shall 
not  pass.  So  now  I've  been  to  the  bailiff." 

Knut  rose  slowly,  pushing  the  rug  aside. 
He  gazed  at  her,  opened  his  mouth  and  gazed. 
At  last  he  passed  his  hand  through  his  beard, 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  33 

and  then  over  his  bald  head,  and  said  in  an 
uncomfortably  ordinary  tone  of  voice: 

"Oh,  have  you  been  to  the  bailiff,  Marit?" 

"Yes !  When  there  are  no  men  on  the  farm, 
the  women  have  to  go  out  to  work,"  she  said. 
"I  didn't  come  quite  empty-handed  when  I 
became  mistress  at  Norby,  and  I  didn't  mean 
to  let  you  give  my  share  to  tramps  and 
beggars." 

Knut  turned  pale,  but  once  more  passed  his 
hand  over  his  bald  crown  and  through  his 
beard,  and  tried  to  laugh.  She  could  hardly 
have  wounded  the  capable  Knut  Norby  more 
deeply,  for  he  had  about  doubled  their  for- 
tune. 

Marit  now  deemed  it  wisest  to  withdraw, 
but  she  closed  the  door  slowly  behind  her,  and 
walked  with  slow  firm  step.  Knut  remained 
sitting,  and .  again  passed  his  hand  over  his 
head  two  or  three  times.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life  Norby  thought  of  going  after  his  wife 
and  thrashing  her,  for  domestic  peace  was  at 
an  end  anyhow. 

He  rose  and  began  to  wander  about  with 


34  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

his  thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his  waistcoat. 
Now  and  again  he  stood  still,  as  if  to  make 
quite  certain  whether  this  was  not  a  dream 
from  which  he  might  awake.  But  there  stood 
the  outhouses  right  enough,  painted  red,  and 
a  magpie  let  itself  slip  down  the  sloping  roof, 
and  left  a  furrow  in  the  snow ;  and  there  hung 
Johan  Sverdrup  over  the  writing-table,  and 
he  himself  stood  here  and  still  had  his  forest 
clothes  on.  No,  it  must  be  true  after  all  that 
his  wife  had  been  to  the  bailiff — with  this 

The  floor  seemed  to  become  insecure  be- 
neath his  feet,  the  office  became  too  small,  and 
he  had  to  go  into  the  large  corner  room,  where 
he  began  to  walk  about  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets.  Here  there  was  mahogany  furniture 
and  there  were  large  gilt-framed  mirrors  and 
other  splendours,  but  now  it  seemed  to  Norby 
as  if  they  were  his  no  longer.  He  stood  still 
again  and  again  to  wonder:  "Is  it  you,  Norby, 
or  is  it  not?" 

He  stood  at  the  window  in  the  white  light 
reflected  from  the  snow,  and  looked  out  at  the 
half-buried  garden.  But  it  was  not  the  trees 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  35 

he  saw.  He  saw  himself  being  driven  down 
the  hill  by  the  bailiff  on  his  way  to  prison  for 
having  brought  a  false  accusation. 

He  turned  suddenly  round,  and  went  reso- 
lutely towards  the  door,  but  stopped  with  his 
hand  on  the  handle.  He  felt  that  it  was  utterly 
impossible  to  go  to  his  wife  now  and  tell  her 
the  truth,  in  the  first  place  because  he  felt 
more  inclined  to  thrash  her,  and  in  the  second 
because  he  did  not  know  how  she  would  take 
such  a  communication.  She  would  perhaps 
only  faint  with  rage  at  having  run  like  a  fool 
to  the  village,  but  she  might  also  do  something 
worse. 

He  mounted  the  stairs  to  his  room  in  order 
to  change  his  clothes.  He  must  go  to  the 
bailiff.  But  when  his  trousers  were  off,  and 
he  was  about  to  pull  on  his  blue  serge  ones,  his 
hands  dropped  and  he  sighed  heavily. 

"Now  isn't  all  this  a  sin  and  a  shame!"  he 
thought  "First  I  help  the  man  out  of  kind- 
ness, then  I  have  to  pay  up,  then  there's  a  row 
in  the  house,  and  then  I  run  about  and  make  a 
fool  of  myself.  And  now  I  was  actually  going 


36  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

off  to  hold  up  my  wife  to  the  ridicule  of  the 
whole  parish!  No,  that  is  really  going  too 
far!" 

He  remained  sitting  with  the  new  trousers 
in  his  hand.  Yesterday's  unpleasant  picture 
of  Wangen  had  become  still  more  unpleasant 
now,  for  in  reality  he  was  to  blame  for  all  this 
to-day  too.  And  for  that  man  he  was  ready 

to !  The  old  man  suddenly  threw  down 

the  serge  trousers,  and  drew  on  the  old  ones; 
for  if  he  did  withdraw  his  accusation  from  the 
bailiff,  he  would  still  have  to  answer  for  the 
report.  And  go  to  Wangen  and  eat  humble- 
pie?  To  ask  pardon  of  that  man?  Never! 
Never  would  he  do  it! 

No,  there  must  be  some  back  way  out  of 
this.  He  would  think  it  over. 

Knut  Norby  suddenly  found  himself  in  a 
misfortune  for  which  he  himself  was  not 
exactly  to  blame,  but  for  which  he  had  to  bear 
the  responsibility.  He  did  not  therefore  feel 
the  responsibility  to  be  quite  so  heavy  as  it 
otherwise  would  have  been.  All  the  misery 
that  had  come  upon  his  house  to-day  was 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  37 

thanks  to  his  kindness  in  helping  that  fellow. 
It  was  Wangen's  fault  altogether. 

When  the  old  man  was  sitting  in  the  little 
room  at  dusk,  he  heard  little  Knut  laughing 
in  the  next  room,  and  rose  to  go  in  to  him,  but 
stopped  at  the  door.  He  was  not  equal  to  see- 
ing little  Knut  to-day. 

"Perhaps  he  had  a  hand  in  bringing  your 
father  to  such  a  bad  end  too,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, thinking  of  the  child.  At  any  rate, 
Wangen  was  at  Lillehammer  fair  that  time. 

One  day  went  by,  and  then  another.  The 
old  man  was  on  thorns.  But  every  time  he 
thought  of  changing  his  clothes  and  going  to 
the  bailiff,  he  half  unconsciously  began  to  con- 
jure up  a  picture  of  Wangen,  to  remember 
bad  things  about  him,  to  place  him  in  a  ridicu- 
lous or  an  odious  light,  to  impute  to  him  all 
kinds  of  repulsive  failings;  and  this  gave  him 
fresh  courage  to  put  off  going,  and  he  felt  it 
more  and  more  impossible  that  he  should 
humble  himself  to  such  a  man. 

And  suppose  that  Wangen  was  to  blame 
for  his  son's  death?  Although  this  possibility 


38  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

made  the  old  man  sick  with  anger,  he  was  still 
uneasy  in  his  mind.  The  witness,  Jorgen 
Haarstad,  was  dead,  it  was  true;  but  Knut 
Norby  would  not  disown  his  signature.  There 
must  be  some  back  way  out  of  it. 


CHAPTER  IV" 

HENRY  WANGEN  descended  from  the  snow- 
covered  train  from  Christiania,  and  with  his 
bag  in  his  hand  hurried  homewards.  He  ex- 
changed greetings  with  no  one.  His  failure 
would  ruin  half  the  parish,  and  he  knew  that 
people  stood  and  looked  after  him  as  they 
would  after  a  rogue  they  would  like  to  thrash. 

He  was  a  man  of  about  five-and-thirty,  tall 
and  spare,  with  a  reddish  beard  and  a  refined, 
youthful  face.  But  he  walked  like  an  old  man. 
His  going  humbly  from  one  merchant  to  an- 
other in  Christiania  had  been  in  vain;  and  he 
dreaded  going  home,  because  his  wife  must  at 
last  be  told  the  truth. 

Henry  Wangen  was  the  son  of  a  magis- 
trate who  had  misappropriated  the  public 
funds.  He  had  tried  many  occupations,  but 
was  an  agriculturist  when  he  married  the 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  farmer.  Her  father, 
who  had  long  opposed  the  marriage,  made  it  a 
condition  that  she  should  have  the  control  of 

39 


40  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

her  own  property.  But  when  Wangen  started 
the  brickfields,  he  not  only  obtained  his  wife's 
confidence  and  money,  but  he  was  so  eloquent 
and  enthusiastic  that  he  also  induced  her 
father  and  brother,  and  many  others,  to 
entrust  him  with  their  money.  And  now? 

When  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  bridge, 
where  a  number  of  cottages  are  dotted  over 
the  hill,  he  met  a  bent  figure  in  a  faded  over- 
coat and  fur  cap,  with  a  toothless  mouth,  and 
a  pair  of  gold  spectacles  upon  a  prominent 
red  nose.  Wangen  stopped,  opened  his  bag, 
and  took  out  a  bottle  wrapped  in  paper.  It 
was  a  commission  he  had  had  in  town.  The 
man  with  the  spectacles  smiled  at  the  bottle  as 
at  something  very  precious,  and  put  it  under 
his  arm. 

"I  say!"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "I've  got  a 
little  piece  of  news  for  you." 

But  Wangen  was  gone.  He  was  thinking 
of  his  wife,  who  was  expecting  their  fourth 
child.  Could  she  bear  what  he  had  to  tell  her? 

The  other  followed  him,  however,  and  took 
hold  of  his  arm. 

"Oh,  but  you  must  wait  and  hear  the  news!" 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  41 

he  said,  and  laughed  a  little  spitefully.  "Come 
in  a  moment  and  taste  the  purchase." 

"No,  I  can't  just  now,"  said  Wangen, 
hurrying  on.  Wangen  had  unfortunately 
more  than  once  allowed  himself  to  be  tempted 
by  this  inebriate  consul  from  Christiania, 
whose  relations  boarded  him  here  in  the  coun- 
try; but  now  he  was  determined  to  be  thor- 
oughly sober  when  he  got  home.  The  elder 
man  still  hung  upon  his  arm,  however,  and 
spoke  so  persuasively  that  he  at  length 
allowed  himself  to  drawn  into  his  little  house. 

At  the  window  of  the  low  room  they 
entered,  which  smelt  of  whisky  and  tobacco, 
sat  a  lean,  tailor-like  figure,  playing  patience. 
This  was  the  third  member  of  the  whisky- 
drinking  trio,  an  old  lawyer,  crippled  with 
rheumatism,  and  long  since  past  work.  He 
went  by  the  name  of  the  "late  future  prime 
minister." 

"Sit  down!"  said  the  consul;  but  Wangen 
remained  standing  with  his  bag  in  his  hand. 

"Shall  we  have  a  game  of  cards?"  said  the 
man  at  the  window,  smiling  in  his  white  beard. 

"Hold  your  tongue!"  said  the  consul,  busy- 


42  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

ing  himself  with  the  rinsing  of  two  glasses. 
"We're  first  going  to  have  a  glass  of  three- 
stars." 

"No,  I  won't  have  any!"  said  Wangen. 
"But  what  was  it  that  I  positively  must  hear?" 

"Just  you  sit  down,  my  boy!"  said  the  con- 
sul, chuckling  as  he  held  up  a  glass  to  the 
light.  "Upon  my  word,  the  world  is  worse 
than  I  thought." 

This  meant  a  good  deal,  for  the  consul  was 
not  accustomed  to  judge  people  leniently. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Wangen.  "Has  any- 
thing happened  to  my  wife?" 

The  consul  placed  the  glasses  on  the  table, 
and  fixed  his  little,  venomous  eyes  upon 
Wangen,  while  his  red  nose  wrinkled  in  a 
smile. 

"Oh,  well,  so  many  things  happen,"  he  said. 
"Now,  for  instance,  what  is  your  opinion  of 
the  great  man  at  Norby?" 

"Norby?  I  really  don't  know.  I've  got 
enough  to  do  to  look  after  myself.  But  I 
must  go." 

"Wait!"  said  the  consul.  "Norby  must 
have  a  spite  against  you,  for,  to  tell  the  truth, 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  43 

he  means  to  get  you  sent  to  prison  because 
you  have  forged  his  signature," 

The  prime  minister  looked  up  from  his 
patience,  and  tried  to  see  by  Wangen's  face 
whether  he  should  laugh  or  not. 

There  was  a  short  pause,  during  which  the 
consul  enjoyed  the  situation  and  continued  to 
gaze  at  Wangen  through  his  spectacles. 

Wangen  broke  into  a  laugh,  and  involun- 
tarily stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  filled 
glass. 

"Your  health!"  he  said.  "That's  not  a  bad 
story!" 

"You  don't  believe  it,  perhaps?  Upon  my 
word  it's  true,  old  chap!  Ask  the  prime 
minister!" 

The  late  future  prime  minister  nodded. 

Wangen  looked  from  the  one  to  the  other. 

"What's  all  this  nonsense  you're  talking?" 
he  said.  He  did  not  believe  it  yet. 

"You  may  well  say  so,"  said  the  consul  with 
a  venomous  smile.  "It's  a  delightful  world 
we  live  in!" 

"Has   any   one   been   to   tell   my   wife?" 


44  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

Wangen's  voice  trembled,  and  he  turned  pale. 
He  reached  out  his  hand  for  his  bag.  \ 

"Yes,  she's  had  a  visitor,"  said  the  consul, 
with  his  most  venomous  glance. 

"The  bailiff?" 

"Yes." 

"Because  —  because  IVe  committed  for- 
gery?" 

"Exactly."  The  consul  was  enjoying  the 
situation  to  such  an  extent  that  he  forgot  to 
empty  his  glass. 

Wangen  had  emptied  his,  and  now  held  it 
out  for  more. 

"Your  health!"  he  said.  "If  this  is  true, 
then  by  Jove  it'll  be  Norby  and  not  me  to  go 
to  prison!"  And  with  that  he  buttoned  up  his 
coat  and  hurried  to  the  door. 


CHAPTER  V 

IT  sometimes  happens  that  in  the  even  current 
of  our  lives  we  suddenly  meet  with  an  obstacle 
that  compels  us  to  pause  and  consider.  To 
Henry  Wangen  his  failure  was  such  an  obsta- 
cle as  this.  As  he  sat  in  the  train  on  his  way 
home  from  town,  with  unavoidable  ruin  star- 
ing him  in  the  face,  he  was  nearly  passing  sen- 
tence of  death  upon  himself.  He  saw  that 
this  failure,  which  brought  misfortune  to  so 
many,  was  due  to  his  own  incapacity  and  reck- 
lessness. It  was  terrible,  but  it  was  true. 

"This  is  a  consequence  of  never  having 
taken  the  trouble  to  acquire  thorough  knowl- 
edge," he  thought.  "And  if  I  hadn't  so  often 
sat  drinking  far  into  the  night  at  the  consul's, 
I  should  have  had  more  judgment  in  my  busi- 
ness the  next  day."  Every  drowsy  or  lazy 
moment  in  which  a  determination  was  taken 
now  seemed  to  him  to  have  come  to  life  in  the 
form  of  a  starving,  despairing  family.  "There ! 
there!" 

45 


46  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

And  during  these  moments  of  calm  justice 
towards  himself,  he  saw  one  thing  that  im- 
pressed him  more  than  any  other,  namely,  that 
his  kindness  of  heart  had  really  been  a  greater 
enemy  to  him  than  drink;  for  he  had  always 
contented  himself  with  the  knowledge  that  he 
meant  well.  And  he  did  mean  it  all  so  well, 
and  sheltered  by  this  good  intention,  he  had 
done  the  most  thoughtless  acts,  and  always 
with  a  good  conscience;  for  good  faith  was 
always  ready  to  excuse  the  blackest  lies  and 
raise  them  into  the  light  of  truth. 

And  now?  Reality  had  no  use  for  good 
faith ;  it  demanded  more. 

While  the  train  rolled  on,  he  also  saw  how 
his  pet  idea  for  the  improvement  of  the  condi- 
tions of  the  working  man,  an  eight-hour 
working-day,  had  also  helped  in  the  ruin.  So 
it  was  not  only  necessary  to  have  benevolent 
ideas  in  this  w^orld;  they  must  be  such  as  did 
not  bring  misfortune  upon  those  they  were 
intended  to  help,  as  they  had  done  in  this  case. 

He  was  filled  with  a  dull  rage  against  him- 
self, and  swore  that  he  would  not  rest  until  he 
had  paid  back  to  them  all  that  he  had 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  47 

wheedled  out  of  them.  He  swore  not  to  touch 
strong  drink  again.  He  was  fully  aware  that 
this  was  not  enough.  He  would  never,  never 
be  able  to  make  up  for  the  suffering  he  had 
brought  upon  so  many. 

And  his  wife,  who  had  put  such  confidence 
in  him?  He  felt  as  if  he  could  have  taken  him- 
self by  the  throat  and  called  himself  a 
scoundrel. 

He  was  now  on  his  way  home  from  the 
consul's  after  having  heard  the  "news." 
Strange  to  say,  his  mind  had  become  more 
composed.  He  did  not  hang  his  head  any 
longer.  He  walked  more  easily.  He  did  not 
know  himself  how  it  came  about,  but  he  was 
not  quite  so  afraid  of  going  home  to  his  wife 
and  confessing  the  truth. 

When  he  came  in  sight  of  his  house,  which 
lay  a  little  to  the  left  of  the  dark  mass  of  the 
brick-kilns,  he  saw  a  light  in  a  single  window. 
He  remembered  his  wife's  condition  and  the 
bailiff's  visit.  "Poor  Karen!"  he  thought; 
"perhaps  she  was  at  home,  alone  too."  And  a 
flood  of  anger  filled  his  heart,  anger  this  time 
not  against  himself,  but  against  Norby.  "Is 


48  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

he  quite  mad?  What  does  he  mean  by  this?" 
It  was  a  relief  to  be  able  to  turn  his  indigna- 
tion against  others  than  himself. 

When  he  entered  the  dining-room,  where 
he  had  seen  the  light,  he  found  his  young  wife 
sitting  by  a  small  lamp.  She  rose  mechani- 
cally. He  saw  at  once  that  the  children  were 
in  bed,  and  the  supper  was  laid  and  waiting 
for  him.  How  cosy  and  peaceful  it  was !  But 
in  the  middle  of  this  peace  she  stood  pale  and 
frightened,  gazing  at  him  as  if  she  would  say : 
"Tell  me  quickly,  is  it  true?" 

She  was  a  tall,  stately  woman,  not  yet 
thirty  years  of  age.  She  was  dressed  in  a 
loose-fitting  gray  dress,  and  her  wealth  of  fair 
hair  was  set  like  a  crown  upon  her  head.  Her 
long  eyelashes  gave  a  depth  and  brightness  to 
her  eyes.  Her  face  was  in  the  shadow  of  the 
lamp-shade,  as  she  stood  leaning  upon  the 
back  of  a  chair,  motionless,  impatient  and 
anxiotis. 

"I  know  all!"  he  said  abruptly,  stooping  to 
put  down  his  bag;  and  even  before  he  raised 
himself  again,  he  heard  her  drop  into  a  chair 
and  burst  into  tears. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  49 

"I  thought  I  should  have  gone  out  of  my 
mind!"  she  sobbed. 

He  stood  looking  at  her.  She  did  not  come 
up  to  him  and  throw  her  arms  about  his  neck. 
Did  she  really  suspect  him?  His  indignation 
and  pain  at  this  again  felt  like  a  relief;  for  in 
this  he  was  innocent,  at  any  rate;  he  could 
defend  himself  here  with  a  good  conscience. 

He  went  up  to  her  and  laid  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder. 

"Karen!"  he  said,  "do  you  believe  it?" 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  he  grew 
more  and  more  anxious.  At  last  she  raised 
her  hand  and  placed  it  in  his.  He  clasped  it; 
it  was  so  thin  and  helpless,  and  so  warm,  and 
it  seemed  to  give  him  all  her  confidence.  It  is 
true  that  during  the  last  few  days  she  had 
often  reproached  him,  and  had  mercilessly 
demanded  from  him  the  return  of  her  money; 
but  this  was  beyond  ordinary  limits,  and  made 
everything  else  seem  small,  and  now  she  clung 
to  him  confidingly. 

In  a  little  while  she  pointed  to  the  supper- 
table  and  whispered:  "Won't  you  have  sup- 
per?" And  she  rose  slowly  and  went  to  the 


50  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

stove  for  the  tea-pot.  "Would  you  like  me  to 
light  the  big  lamp?"  she  asked  gently. 

"No,  dear,"  he  said,  seating  himself  at  the 
table  and  beginning  to  eat,  more  for  the  pur- 
pose of  removing  the  smell  of  whisky  than  of 
satisfying  any  hunger.  He  noticed  that  there 
was  a  half -bottle  of  beer  upon  the  table,  and 
this  positively  agitated  him.  They  could  not 
afford  to  drink  beer  now,  but  perhaps  she  had 
found  this  last  bottle  in  some  box,  and,  in 
spite  of  her  own  troubles,  had  not  forgotten 
to  put  it  on  the  table  when  she  expected  him. 

"Have  you  had  supper?"  he  asked,  as  she 
did  not  come  to  table. 

"No,  thank  you,"  she  said;  "I  don't  think 
I  can  eat  anything." 

"Oh  yes,  Karen,"  he  said;  "Soren  will  want 
his  supper,  you  know." 

This  little  joke  seemed  so  strange  in  their 
present  gloomy  mood.  For  Soren  was  their 
secret  pet-name  for  the  little  one  that  was  still 
unborn.  And  now,  when  the  father  said  this, 
it  was  as  though  a  little  bridge  of  gold  had 
been  thrown  between  them,  and  she  could  not 
help  looking  brightly  up  at  him  and  smiling. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  51 

That  smile  seemed  to  light  up  the  room.  It 
relieved  them  both,  and  they  were  now  able  to 
talk  quietly  about  this  affair  with  Norby. 

"Can  you  imagine  what  has  made  him  do 
it?"  she  said,  as  she  poured  herself  out  a  cup 
of  tea. 

He  felt  her  eyes  upon  him,  and  this  time  he 
could  raise  his  head  and  meet  them. 

"Well,  it  must  come  to  light  some  day.  It 
is  either  a  misunderstanding,  or " 

"Or?"  she  questioned. 

While  he  was  seeking  for  probable  reasons, 
he  felt  at  the  same  time  an  ill-defined  anxiety 
lest  it  should  only  be  a  misunderstanding.  A 
star  seemed  to  have  risen  in  the  firmament  of 
his  consciousness,  and  pointed  to  an  inquiry, 
acquittal,  and  reparation.  Half  unconsciously 
he  felt  that  this  would  be  salvation,  not  only 
as  regarded  this  accusation,  but  also  all  others. 

"Norby  is  one  of  those  men  of  whom  you 
never  can  make  anything,"  he  answered.  "It 
is  quite  possible  that  the  couple  of  thousand 
now  in  question  have  quite  robbed  him  of 
his  wits." 

She  raised  her  eyes,  and  her  glance  said; 


52  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"Two  thousand?  There  too!"  And  she 
almost  imperceptibly  shook  her  head. 

With  an  involuntary  anxiety  lest  she  should 
attach  too  much  importance  to  this  side  of  the 
question,  he  continued: 

"He's  a  great  idiot,  anyhow;  for  he  must 
surely  understand  that  as  there's  a  witness, 
he  can't  get  out  of  it.'* 

As  they  talked,  and  he  was  able  to  occupy 
himself  with  his  innocence  in  the  matter,  his 
tranquillity  of  mind  increased,  and  things 
looked  easier  and  brighter.  And  he  carried 
her  along  with  him.  She  had  quite  forgotten 
to  ask  how  he  had  got  on  in  town,  and  whether 
he  could  save  her  money.  An  event  had  taken 
place  in  the  house  which  swept  everything  else 
into  the  background. 

"How  did  you  get  on  in  town  to-day?"  she 
asked  at  length. 

And  he  could  answer  frankly  now:  "Karen 

dear,  the  worst  is  about  your  money "  He 

could  get  no  further,  his  voice  grew  husky. 
Instead  of  being  afraid  and  in  despair,  he  now 
felt  so  certain  of  forgiveness  that  he  could 
safely  be  distressed. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  53 

He  was  quite  right.  She  did  not  spring  up. 
She  did  not  call  him  to  account  for  all  his  false 
representations.  She  bowed  her  head;  she 
still  had  a  vision  of  the  bailiff  before  her  eyes, 
and  she  answered  with  a  sigh: 

"Well,  well — so  long  as  you  are  innocent 
in  this " 

"Don't  say  that,  Karen!"  he  said  with  tears 
in  his  eyes.  "I  feel  that  I  have  so  much  to 
answer  for  both  to  you  and " 

"Oh,  it  may  turn  out  all  right  in  the  end," 
she  said,  her  face  turned  towards  the  lamp. 
"So  long  as  one  doesn't  lose  one's  honour." 

So  that  was  over.  He  had  not  this  confes- 
sion to  dread  any  longer;  but  he  had  never 
dreamt  it  would  have  been  got  through  so 
easily. 

"What  is  it,  though?"  he  thought,  as  he  rose 
from  the  table.  He  felt  as  if  it  were  his  duty 
to  be  unhappy,  and  now  he  could  not.  He 
kept  his  eyes  all  the  time  fixed  upon  his  inno- 
cence in  this  one  matter,  and  this  feeling  of 
innocence  was  like  a  lamp  that  suddenly  shone 
upon  his  darkness;  it  illuminated  everything, 
softened  everything,  so  that  the  remorse  and 


54  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

despair  he  had  felt  in  the  train,  all  that  had 
chafed  and  wounded  him  earlier  in  the  day, 
melted  away  into  far-off,  shapeless  mist. 

He  had  to  go  into  the  bedroom  to  look  at 
the  children,  and  he  sat  down  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed  in  which  the  two  little  girls  slept.  In 
the  train  he  had  felt  himself  unworthy  to 
bring  children  into  the  world,  but  now  he  was 
once  more  happy  in  being  a  father. 

"How  long  do  you  think  we  shall  be  able  to 
stay  here?"  she  asked,  when  he  came  in  again. 
"Do  you  think  we  shall  have  to  move  before 
I  am  laid  up?" 

It  sounded  so  unusually  resigned. 

"No,"  he  said;  "certainly  not." 

They  walked  through  the  rooms,  he  carry- 
ing the  lamp.  They  seemed  to  have  a  mutual 
feeling  that  it  would  soon  all  be  taken  from 
them,  and  they  be  left  homeless  and  empty- 
handed.  They  paused  in  front  of  various 
things — a  mirror,  a  rug,  a  picture — and 
looked  at  them,  his  disengaged  arm  round  her 
waist,  as  if  to  support  her. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said  with  a  little  sigh, 


The  Power  of  a  lAe  55 

"when  my  confinement  is  over  I'm  going  to 
try  to  do  without  a  servant." 

"Oh,"  said  he,  "there  will  be  no  sense  in 
that." 

"Yes,  but  Henry,  have  you  considered  what 
we're  going  to  live  upon?" 

He  recollected  a  vow  he  had  made  in  the 
train,  to  put  his  hand  to  any  sort  of  work,  if 
only  she,  to  whom  he  owed  so  much,  could  live 
free  from  care.  But  he  said  nothing  about 
it  now.  This  feeling  of  innocence  gave  him 
an  involuntary  pride,  and  he  contented  him- 
self with  saying: 

"Let's  hope  I  shall  yet  be  able  to  arrange 
a  composition." 

He  drew  her  closer  to  him,  as  if  to  have  her 
with  him  in  this  faint  hope;  and  she  leaned 
against  him,  with  her  fair  head  resting  upon 
his  shoulder,  now  that  she  felt  sure  that  he 
was  innocent  of  this  crime,  before  which 
everything  else  dwindled  into  easily  sur- 
mountable trifles. 

The  maid  was  out.  They  were  alone  in  the 
house,  and  the  stillness  made  them  talk  in 
undertones.  She  grew  tired  of  standing,  and 


56  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

sank  down  upon  a  sofa;  and  he  seated  himself 
beside  her,  when  he  had  placed  the  lamp  upon 
a  table  close  by. 

They  sat  in  silence,  gazing  vacantly  at  the 
piano.  The  little  lamp  threw  a  pale  light 
about  them,  while  the  furniture  in  the  rest  of 
the  room  was  lost  in  the  darkness. 

"Father  came  while  the  bailiff  was  here," 
she  said  at  last,  looking  straight  before  her. 

"How  did  he  take  it?" 

"Every  one  will  believe  you're  guilty,"  she 
said.  "And  Norby  is  powerful.  Father  is 
coming  again  to-morrow.  You'd  promised  to 
bring  him  from  town  the  last  ten  thousand 
krones  he  got  for  you." 

Wangen's  head  drooped.  A  vision  of  her 
father,  with  his  white  hair  and  red,  watery 
eyes,  came  before  him.  What  should  he  say 
to  the  old  man  to-morrow,  now  that  every- 
thing was  lost? 

"And  the  widow  from  Thorstad  has  been 
here,"  she  went  on.  "You  had  promised  her 
half  as  soon  as  you  came  from  town." 

Wangen  still  stared  into  the  shadow  by  the 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  57 

piano.  He  was  afraid  she  would  ask  him  if 
he  had  the  money.  5 ; 

"It  is  worst  for  the  working  men,"  she  con- 
tinued, "who  are  now  quite  destitute,  and  can- 
not get  credit  anywhere.  And  in  the  middle 
of  winter  too!"  She  was  on  the  verge  of 
tears. 

Perhaps  they  too  would  be  coming  in  the 
morning  to  ask  about  what  he  had  promised 
them.  In  the  half-darkness  Wangen  could 
see  before  him  the  old  man  with  the  red,  wat- 
ery eyes,  the  widow  whose  fortune  he  had 
wasted,  the  work-people — all  of  them.  They 
would  all  come  in  the  morning  and  call  him  to 
account. 

He  turned  cold  at  the  thought,  and  the 
same  dark  accusation  he  had  brought  against 
himself  in  the  train  appeared  once  more,  while 
he  felt  his  clear  innocence  of  forgery  to  be 
valueless ;  it  grew  fainter,  like  a  lantern  on  the 
point  of  going  out,  leaving  him  in  a  darkness 
where  the  crushing  sense  of  responsibility 
brought  him  to  despair,  where  remorse  fas- 
tened upon  him  with  innumerable  hands,  and 
where  he  must  eternally  and  inexorably  re- 


58  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

main  a  prisoner  and  be  tortured  with  the  pains 
of  hell. 

He  rose  suddenly.  "Let's  go  into  the  other 
room,"  he  said,  raising  his  shoulders;  "it's  so 
cold  here." 

In  the  dining-room  he  placed  the  lamp  on 
the  table,  and  stood  a  moment  gazing  at  it. 

"When  I  think  about  it,"  he  said  at  last,  "I 
can  after  all  understand  why  Norby  wants  to 
injure  me." 

"Can  you?"  she  said  eagerly. 

He  continued  to  stand  motionless  in  the 
same  position. 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "that  man  is  both  jealous 
of  his  honour  and  revengeful.  He  wasn't 
made  chairman  of  the  parish  last  time  either, 
and  I  expect  he  thinks  it's  my  fault." 

"Good  heavens!"  she  sighed. 

As  he  stood  there,  he  could  see  in  his  mind's 
eye  Norby  with  his  cherished  grudge,  sitting 
in  his  house  like  a  wicked  ogre,  ready  to  burst 
with  a  desire  for  revenge,  and  this  distorted 
picture  strengthened  Wangen's  feeling  of 
innocence,  which  now  seemed  like  a  kind  of 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  59 

thread  upon  which  he  hung,  and  which  must 
not  break. 

He  heard  his  wife  say  good-night,  but  he 
still  stood  there.  When  at  last  he  went  into 
the  bedroom,  she  was  standing  half -undressed 
in  front  of  the  looking-glass,  doing  up  her 
thick  hair  for  the  night  in  a  long  plait. 

"And  what's  more,"  he  said  softly,  gazing 
as  if  at  a  dawning  salvation,  "I  understand 
now  why  Norby  managed  to  frustrate  the  in- 
tention of  building  the  church  of  brick.  The 
brickfields,  do  you  see,  shouldn't  make  any- 
thing out  of  it.  Norby  wanted  to  provide  the 
timber." 

He  began  to  walk  up  and  down,  and  then 
stopped  again.  "And  now  I  understand  too," 
he  went  on,  "how  it  is  that  so  many  customers 
have  left  me  lately.  The  brickfields  were  to 
be  removed  out  of  the  way  of  the  large  forest- 
owners  here." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  she  exclaimed, 
turning  from  the  glass  and  looking  at  him, 
half  in  horror  that  people  could  be  so  wicked, 
half  in  gladness  that  the  decline  in  the  brick- 
fields business  was  not  wholly  his  fault. 


60  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

The  wind  began  to  howl  in  the  great  fac- 
tory chimneys.  A  door  up  in  the  loft  opened, 
and  shut  with  a  bang  so  that  the  house 
shook, 

"Oh,  would  you  mind?"  she  said.  "That 
door  has  been  banging  ever  since  the  girl  went 
out,  but  I  didn't  venture  on  the  stairs.  Will 
you?" 

He  went,  and  on  coming  down  again  he 
said  : 

"And  this;  normal  working-day — lit  has 
frightened  the  rich  big-wigs  too.  Yes,  now  I 
begin  to  understand." 

And  each  time  he  exhumed  a  fresh  proba- 
bility of  a  conspiracy  against  him,  it  lifted  a 
fresh  burden  from  his  own  shoulders;  so  he 
dug  again  and  again,  half  in  anxiety  that  he 
should  not  be  able  to  find  enough. 

While  Fru  Wangen  stood  in  her  nightdress 
by  the  bed,  winding  up  her  watch  for  the 
night,  he  came  and  laid  his  arm  round  her 
shoulders,  and  said  with  some  emotion: 

"So  now,  Karen,  it  can  be  explained  why 
they  have  begun  to  lose  confidence  in  me  in 
town,  and  I  am  hardly  likely  to  be  allowed  to 


The  Power  of  a  JJie  61 

compound.  The  rumour  of  a  crime  Mall  knock 
that  on  the  head." 

"Poor  Henry!"  she  said,  and  hanging  her 
watch  in  its  place,  she  turned  and  threw  her 
arms  about  his  neck.  "I'm  afraid  I've  mis- 
judged you,  Henry!  Can  you  forgive  me?" 

He  was  touched,  and  folded  her  in  a  close 
embrace,  feeling  as  he  did  so  the  warmth  of 
her  body  through  her  nightdress.  They  stood 
thus  silent,  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  both 
seeing  the  same  persecution  and  injustice, 
feeling  themselves  united  in  the  same  inno- 
cence, and  finding  warmth  in  their  mutual 
need  of  standing  together. 

And  now  when  he  thought  of  her  money, 
it  no  longer  seemed  to  be  his  fault ;  the  blame 
was  transferred  to  those  in  whose  way  the 
brick-kilns  had  lain.  And  he  thought  of  her 
old,  ruined  father,  and  he  no  longer  dreaded 
his  coming  in  the  morning.  The  widow,  the 
workmen's  families  passed  before  his  mind's 
eye,  but  they  no  longer  accused  him.  He  felt 
sympathy  for  them,  and  indignation  on  their 
account;  but  now  the  indignation  was  turned 
against  others,  not  against  himself. 


62  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

" Aren't  you  coming  to  bed?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  wait  a  little!"  he  said,  still  standing  as 
before. 

"Yes,  but  I'm  getting  cold,  Henry." 

He  was  actually  afraid  of  letting  her  go,  as 
if  she  were  the  happy  conscience  he  had  now 
built  up,  which  felt  like  a  deliverance  from 
something  terrible. 

"I  think  I'll  go  out  for  a  little,"  he  said  at 
last.  "I  shan't  be  able  to  sleep,  anyhow." 

"Don't  be  out  too  long!"  she  said.  "Re- 
member I'm  lying  here  alone." 

Of  course  he  would  not  be  long.  But  she 
was  anxious  nevertheless;  for  he  was  always 
"only  going  out  for  a  little"  when  it  ended  at 
the  consul's,  and  he  came  home  a  little  un- 
steady in  his  gait. 

Wangen  set  out  with  his  hands  deep  in  the 
pockets  of  his  coat.  The  hard  snow  creaked 
beneath  his  feet,  and  above  the  snowy  hills 
and  dark  ridges  was  spread  a  wide,  brilliant, 
starry  sky. 

"Thank  goodness!"  thought  Wangen,  "that 
eight-hour  working-day  probably  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  failure."  And  he  involuri- 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  63 

tarily  felt  as  if  a  lost  ideal  had  been  regained, 
so  that  he  had  a  beloved,  bright  idea  for  the 
future  to  believe  in.  From  this  his  thoughts 
passed  insensibly  to  Norby  and  the  other  rich 
men,  who  sat  brooding  over  their  money-bags, 
suspicious  of  everything  new,  fearful  of  every- 
thing, averse  to  all  improvement  of  the  condi- 
tion of  the  lower  classes. 

"They  managed  to  quash  it  this  time,"  he 
thought;  "but  there  will  be  a  next  time." 

He  walked  on  until  he  found  himself  out- 
side the  consul's  house.  A  light  was  still 
burning  in  the  sitting-room.  A  good  im- 
pulse took  him  by  the  button-hole  and  said: 
"Remember  your  vow  in  the  train!"  But 
there  are  times  when  we  feel  ourselves  so  mor- 
ally well-to-do  that  we  think  nothing  of  fling- 
ing away  a  halfpenny.  Wangen  must  have 
some  one  to  talk  to  now,  and  he  would  only 
stay  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

"Why,  dear  me!  Aren't  you  arrested  yet?" 
said  the  consul,  who  was  sitting  in  his  dress- 
ing-gown, stirring  a  freshly  made  toddy. 

And  they  sat  with  the  bottle  between  them, 
and  discussed  the  matter  very  thoroughly. 


64  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

Wangen  talked  himself  into  more  guesses, 
suspected  more  rich  men,  one  after  another,  of 
being  in  the  conspiracy,  and  was  lavish  in  his 
use  of  forcible  expressions  about  them  all. 
The  consul  encouraged  him  with  little  spiteful 
remarks,  and  made  numerous  mental  notes. 
To-morrow  he  would  go  for  a  walk. 

They  emptied  the  bottle  between  them,  and 
when  Wangen  went  home  a  little  after  mid- 
night, he  stumbled  every  now  and  then  over 
his  own  boots. 

"Poor  consul!"  he  thought,  dreading  going 
home;  "he  has  had  a  hard  life  and  needs  a 
little  sympathy  and  appreciation." 

When  he  staggered  into  the  bedroom,  his 
wife  awoke  with  a  cry  of  terror. 

His  head  was  heavy  next  morning;  he  was 
ashamed  to  meet  his  wife,  and  again  began  to 
dread  meeting  those  who  were  to  come  to  him 
that  day. 

By  clinging,  however,  to  his  innocence  in 
the  one  matter,  he  very  soon  succeeded  in  re- 
gaining his  self-confidence ;  and  when,  later  in 
the  day,  he  had  to  go  to  the  station,  he  was 
no  longer  afraid  of  meeting  people.  He  be- 


The  Power  of  a  Uie  65 

gan  to  entertain  a  dim  idea  of  giving  a  lecture 
to  the  workmen,  and  explaining  to  them  the 
true  cause  of  their  common  ruin. 

As  he  went  homewards,  the  sun  was  shin- 
ing upon  the  wide,  snow-covered  fields,  and 
dazzled  his  eyes.  There  stood  the  dead  fac- 
tory-buildings with  their  tall  chimneys,  seem- 
ing to  cry  to  heaven;  but  it  was  not  with  him 
they  had  to  do.  Yesterday  in  the  train  he  had 
thought  that  his  own  house  was  too  luxurious, 
and  the  factory  buildings  too  large  and  expen- 
sive; but  now  he  looked  at  everything  with 
different  eyes.  He  knew  in  his  own  heart 
that  he  had  built  these  works  in  an  honest 
belief  In  the  future  of  his  industry  in  the  dis- 
trict; and  a  banner  of  innocence  waved  over 
both  the  works  and  the  house. 


CHAPTER  VI 

DAY  after  day  passed,  and  Norby  had  not 
yet  recalled  his  declaration.  A  notice  of  the 
forgery  had  already  appeared  in  the  news- 
paper, and  the  more  the  story  spread  and 
grew,  the  more  humiliating  it  seemed  to  Nor- 
by  it  would  be  to  retract;  and  the  longer  he 
put  off,  the  more  the  dread  of  humiliation 
grew,  and  the  more  powerless  did  he  feel  to 
stoop  and  take  the  consequences. 

It  would  in  fact  be  deliberately  to  make 
himself  out  a  dishonourable  man.  Was  that 
too  to  be  the  thanks  he  got  for  having  in  his 
kindness  of  heart  helped  Wangen? 

His  enemies?  They  would  rejoice  as  long 
as  he  lived.  And  the  parish?  An  avalanche 
of  ridicule  would  descend  upon  him,  and  he 
would  always  feel  as  if  he  were  standing  in 
the  pillory  to  be  the  laughing-stock  of  every 
one. 

In  ISTorby's  eyes  the  parish  was  something 
of  indefinite  size,  which  only  paid  attention  to 

66 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  67 

what  he  did.  It  was  his  parish,  and  he  saw 
it  especially  when  he  lay  with  closed  eyes. 
The  woods  and  farms  and  hills  and  rivers 
were  the  same,  but  the  people  were  of  two 
kinds — those  who  praised  him,  and  those  who 
spoke  evil  of  him.  There  lived  no  others  in 
the  parish.  The  first  he  looked  upon  as  hon- 
ourable, worthy  people,  the  second  as  his 
enemies  whom  he  should  certainly  not  forget. 
And  now?  He  was  quite  sure  that  now  peo- 
ple did  nothing  but  talk  about  this  affair. 
Heads  were  put  in  at  doors,  voices  called 
across  back-yards:  Have  you  heard  it?  He 
saw  people  bustling  up  paths,  flying  off  on 
ski,,  writing  letters  to  other  villages  and  towns : 
Have  you  heard  it? 

And  if  he  now  gave  his  wife  away  to  this 
same  parish,  there  would  be  further  excite- 
ment ;  it  made  him  angry  to  think  of  it. 

But  now  people  began  to  come  to  the  old 
man  and  talk  about  the  matter.  What  was 
he  to  say?  He  must  say  something.  At  first 
he  tried  to  get  away  from  the  subject,  but 
afterwards  he  was  afraid  that  he  might  have 
betrayed  himself.  "I  am  an  idiot,"  he  thought. 


68  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"It  won't  make  it  any  worse  than  it  is  already 
if  I  say  it  until  I  can  find  a  way  out."  And 
at  last  the  day  came  when  he  said  it  in  so 
many  words,  half  in  impatience  to  be  left 
alone. 

When  the  stranger  went  away,  the  old  man 
stood  at  the  window  looking  after  him  with  a 
feeling  similar  to  that  with  which  he  had 
looked  after  the  man  on  ski  that  day.  This 
man  would  tell  it  to  others.  He  had  said 
something  that  he  could  never  recall. 

He  felt  now  that  the  way  to  the  bailiff  was 
closed.  He  must  keep  it  up  for  the  present. 
And  henceforward,  every  time  he  repeated 
the  bitter  falsehood,  he  felt  bound  to  say  it 
once  more  in  order  to  make  it  consistent.  But 
he  always  stood,  as  it  were,  and  looked  after 
this  dangerous  lie,  which  branched  out  from 
his  own  tongue,  wandered  about  the  parish, 
and  grew  every  day  like  a  spectre  that  would 
one  day  turn  against  him.  And  yet  he  was 
obliged  to  help  the  spectre  to  grow  still  more, 
for,  like  the  lion-tamer  who  dares  not  turn 
his  back  on  the  lion,  he  must  not  waver,  must 




The  Power  of  a  Lie  69 

not  show  fear,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be 
done  but  to  stick  to  the  story. 

During  the  dark,  snow-laden  winter  days, 
the  old  man  tramped  about  the  yard,  went  in 
at  one  outhouse  door,  came  out  of  another, 
scolded  a  little  here  and  there,  and  imagined 
he  was  busy,  which  he  was  not.  When  he 
knew  he  was  not  observed  he  would  stand 
and  stare  at  his  boots,  then  shake  his  head  and 
say:  "If  it  only  hadn't  been  Herlufsen!" 

But  there  sat  the  house  like  the  troll  with 
its  head  up  to  the  sky,  and  called  across  the 
valley,  jibing  and  mocking  as  it  always  did 
when  Norby  was  in  trouble:  "How  are  you, 
Norby?  Do  you  feel  bad?" 

"Poor  father!"  said  Ingeborg  to  her  moth- 
er in  the  kitchen.  "He  begins  to  look  so 
pale  and  wretched ;  he  can't  possibly  be  well." 

"No,"  said  her  mother;  "I  suppose  it's  this 
affair  that  is  telling  upon  him.  Of  course  it 
can't  be  very  pleasant,  but  it  isn't  our  fault. 
Wangen  has  himself  to  thank  for  it." 

Ingeborg  became  doubly  zealous  in  her  at- 
tentions to  her  father  the  more  depressed  he 
seemed  to  be.  How  touched  she  was  at  his 


70  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

taking  the  matter  so  much  to  heart!  People 
could  see  now  how  good  her  father  was! 
She  had  always  known  that  he  was  the  best 
man  in  the  world. 

But  how  frightened  the  poor  girl  was  the 
day  she  heard  that  Wangen  had  said  that  it 
was  Norby,  and  not  himself,  who  would  go 
to  prison.  Up  to  that  time  she  had  had  a 
certain  amount  of  sympathy  with  Wangen, 
because  he  was  guilty;  but  now  he  became  a 
dreadful  man  in  her  eyes.  And  suppose  he 
succeeded  in  bringing  trouble  upon  her  father ! 
She  dared  not  mention  it  to  her  mother,  and 
as  there  was  no  one  to  whom  she  could  con- 
fide her  anxiety,  it  grew  larger  and  larger, 
and  began  to  keep  her  awake  at  night. 

It  was  now,  however,  that  she  sought  com- 
fort of  God,  and  every  night  prayed  long, 
fervent  prayers;  but  she  knew  that  if  her 
prayers  were  to  be  answered,  she  must  make 
herself  worthy  to  pray.  She  thought  too  that 
as  she  succeeded  in  overcoming  the  powers  of 
evil  in  herself,  she  noticed  that  her  prayers 
seemed  to  receive  comforting  answers ;  and  lit- 
tle by  little  she  began  to  see  her  father  sur- 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  71 

rounded  by  the  powers  of  goodness,  who 
would  protect  him.  How  happy  she  was! 
Wangen  could  not  hurt  him  now;  he  might 
try  if  he  liked,  but  it  would  be  of  no  use! 

From  that  day  the  weary,  sad  girl  began 
to  go  about  with  a  brighter  face  and  lighter 
step,  as  if  she  had  a  secret  joy  glowing  within 
her. 

The  disagreement  between  Norby  and  his 
wife  was  over;  but  it  had  never  been  so  im- 
possible to  tell  her  the  rights  of  the  case  as  it 

was  now. 

> 

One  day,  about  the  middle  of  the  week,  the 
old  man  drove  Laura  in  the  double  sledge  to 
the  station,  as  she  was  going  back  to  town  to 
continue  school.  It  was  a  frosty  day,  with 
cloudless  sky  and  glittering  stretches  of  snow. 
The  sledge-runners  creaked  upon  the  hard, 
snowy  road.  The  old  man  sat  in  his  fur 
coat  and  glanced  now  and  then  at  his  daugh- 
ter. He  had  never  seen  her  so  pretty  as  she 
was  to-day.  The  frost  had  put  such  a  colour 
into  her  young  cheeks,  and  made  her  eyes  so 
clear  and  blue;  and  the  oftener  she  turned 
those  eyes  upon  him  while  she  talked  and 


72  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

laughed,  the  more  ashamed  did  he  feel  of  no 
longer  deserving  this  child's  confidence. 

"You  must  write  to  us  a  little  oftener  than 
you  generally  do/'  he  said,  looking  straight 
before  him  at  the  horse.  "We  should  like  to 
know  if  anything  happens  to  you." 

When  he  said  good-bye  at  the  station,  while 
the  engine  stood  snorting  preparatory  to  the 
departure  of  the  train,  he  had  a  great  desire 
to  kiss  her  on  the  forehead;  but  caresses  were 
not  in  Norby's  line,  and  he  contented  himself 
with  slipping  some  extra  money  into  her 
hand. 

"You  must  buy  something  with  that,"  he 
said.  That  was  the  kiss. 

When  he  drove  home  again  in  the  sledge,  he 
felt  as  though  he  were  alone  in  the  world. 
And  who  could  tell  what  evil  he  was  now  driv- 
ing towards,  as  he  went  home  to  Nor  by? 

When  he  arrived  there,  Marit  met  him  at 
the  outer  door. 

"You've  actually  gone  and  forgotten  that 
declaration  again,"  she  said,  referring  to  a 
written  declaration  to  the  merchant  with 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  73 

whom  Wangen  had  deposited  his  guarantee 
document, 

"Where's  the  hurry?"  murmured  the  old 
man  as  he  took  off  his  fur  coat. 

"It's  been  lying  here  for  a  week  now,  and 
yesterday  he  telephoned  to  ask  what  had  be- 
come of  it." 

Norby  went  slowly  into  his  office,  where  the 
declaration  lay  written  out.  But  though  he 
had  now  spoken  about  Wangen's  forgery  to 
all  sorts  of  people,  it  was  quite  another  thing 
to  have  to  put  his  name  to  it. 

Marit  had  followed  him,  and  she  stood 
waiting  at  the  door. 

"Must  it  be  done  now?"  said  the  old  man, 
slowly  raising  his  eyes  to  hers  as  he  fumbled 
for  his  spectacle-case. 

"I  am  going  to  the  post-office,  and  I'll  take 
it  with  me." 

Marit  felt  herself  the  motive-power  in  this 
affair.  She  feared  that  behind  her  back  he 
might  be  prevailed  upon  to  pull  down  what 
she  had  built  up. 

He  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink,  but  then 


74  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

paused  and  sat  gazing  at  Johan  Sverdrup's 
portrait. 

"It's  a  bad  business,  this,"  he  said,  with  his 
eyes  upon  the  portrait. 

"Yes!"  she  said,  shrugging  her  shoulders. 
"You  must  protect  yourself  and  your  belong- 
ings while  there's  law  and  justice  in  the 
land." 

"Yes,  yes,"  sighed  the  old  man.  And  again 
he  saw  the  spectre  that  grew  and  grew,  and 
would  fall  down  upon  him  on  the  day  he 
turned  round;  and  slowly  he  signed  his  name, 
Knut  O.  Norby. 

When  his  wife  had  left  the  house  he  was 
once  more  standing  and  looking  after  an  ac- 
tion that  was  set  in  motion  and  could  not  be 
overtaken.  The  thing  was  done  now;  he  had 
put  his  name  to  a  false  declaration.  The 
name  Knut  O.  Norby  would  henceforth  not 
be  so  well  esteemed  as  formerly. 

"No,  I  must  find  some  work  to  do,"  he 
thought,  shaking  himself.  "Perhaps  that'll 
cheer  me  up." 

But  feeling  rather  tired,  for  he  had  not 
slept  much  the  night  before,  he  lay  down  upon 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  75 

the  leather  sofa  and  closed  his  eyes  for  a  mo- 
ment, feeling  as  though  he  should  not  be  able 
to  get  up  for  ever  so  long. 

What  made  him  uncomfortable  was  that  he 
now  always  had  a  vision  of  Wangen  before 
him.  Ever  since  the  day  when  he  had  set 
Wangen  in  an  ugly  light  in  order  to  have  an 
excuse  for  not  going  to  the  bailiff,  the  man 
seemed  burnt  into  his  consciousness.  He  be- 
gan to  meet  him  everywhere,  and  to  see  him 
in  every  one  he  talked  to.  He  saw  him  now, 
and  sprang  up  and  out,  harnessed  a  horse, 
and  drove  to  the  forest  to  look  at  the  timber- 
driving. 

He  heard  the  crash  of  the  logs  far  in  among 
the  hills,  and  was  not  long  in  getting  there. 
Some  great  trunks  had  been  driven  out  to  the 
road,  and  a  load  was  just  coming  to  the  top 
of  the  steep  hill  where  a  slide  had  been  cut 
through  the  trees.  But  what  was  that?  The 
horse  sat  down  upon  its  haunches,  and  down 
the  long  steep  incline  went  horse  and  load 
hidden  in  a  cloud  of  snow.  This  was  madness, 
and  the  old  man's  anger  rose.  But  when  the 
load  reached  the  road  the  horse  was  unhurt, 


76  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

and  Norby  saw,  to  his  great  surprise,  that  the 
driver  was  Wangen. 

Norby  went  up  with  his  whip.  Words  fail- 
ed him.  Then  Wangen,  beginning  to  unload, 
said:  "You're  trying  to  tax  me  with  a  for- 
gery, Norby,  but  how  about  your  own  af- 
fairs?" Norby  raised  his  whip  and  would 
have  struck  him,  but  another  load  appeared  at 
the  top  of  the  hill,  and  again  the  horse  sat 
down  upon  its  haunches  and  away  it  went. 
And  that  was  the  way  they  used  Norby's 
horses,  was  it?  He'd  give  them  a  lesson,  he 
would!  But  when  the  driver  came  out  down 
at  the  pile  of  logs,  it  was  Wangen  again! 

How  the  d ?    And  now  he  unloaded  and 

said  with  a  mocking  smile:  " You're  trying  to 
tax  me  with  forgery,  Norby,  but — ha! — ha!— 
what  about  yourself?"  Norby  again  raised 
his  whip  and  would  have  struck  him,  but  sud- 
denly caught  sight  of  another  horse  at  the  top 
of  the  hill.  It  was  the  young  brood-mare,  and 
it  would  injure  its  feet  in  the  slide.  But  it 
was  Wangen  again,  and  his  lips  were  parted 
with  the  same  smile:  "I  say,  Norby,  have 
you  a  good  conscience?  It's  true  the  witness 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  77 

is  dead,  but  just  you  wait!"  And  then  an- 
other load  came,  and  another;  the  hill  was  one 
cloud  of  snow  enveloping  a  string  of  loads, 
and  there  were  more  coming;  and  Wangen 
drove  every  load,  always  that  cursed  Wan- 
gen! 

The  old  man  cried  out  and  sprang  up  from 
the  sofa,  rubbing  his  eyes.  Thank  goodness! 

"I  must  get  something  to  do,"  he  said,  and 
put  on  his  things  and  went  out.  It  was  too 
late  to  look  at  the  timber-felling  that  day. 
He  sauntered  along  to  the  pigsty;  but  the 
twelve  fat,  yellow  animals  that  had  hitherto 
been  his  pride  now  seemed  to  him  to  be  utter 
failures.  "Things  are  beginning  to  go  wrong 
with  me,"  he  thought.  "And  now  in  addition 
I'm  to  have  this!  That's  the  thanks  I  get  for 
my  kindness!"  He  sighed,  and  was  passing 
on;  but  a  pig  put  its  snout  between  the  pal- 
ings and  wanted  to  be  scratched.  The  old  man 
stretched  out  his  hand,  but  suddenly  drew 
back  a  step,  for  this  pig  too  was 

A  shudder  ran  through  him,  and  he  has- 
tened out,  and  from  a  kind  of  curiosity  he 
also  went  through  the  cow-shed.  The  cows, 


78  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

turned  in  their  stalls  and  lowed  gently  one 
after  another;  and  he  gazed,  half  in  curiosity, 
half  in  terror,  at  each  head,  and  saw  that 
the  first,  the  second,  the  third — ugh,  what  did 
it  mean!  He  turned  quickly  and  fled.  He 
was  beginning  to  see  that  hated  face  in  inno- 
cent animals  too.  He  slammed  the  heavy 
cow-shed  door  after  him,  and  the  lowing  of 
two  or  three  cows  at  the  same  moment  added 
to  his  feeling  of  uncanniness. 

"You  great  idiot!"  he  said  at  last  to  him- 
self, when  he  was  fairly  out.  "To  go  and 
imagine  things  like  that!"  He  was  going  in 
the  direction  of  the  stables,  but  turned  round 
suddenly.  He  did  not  dare. 

He  began  to  think  that  his  men  had  not  the 
respect  for  him  that  they  formerly  had,  and 
he  was  therefore  unusually  hot-tempered  with 
them.  When  he  was  driving  he  thought  that 
the  horses  did  not  go  so  willingly  either — as 
if  they  had  a  suspicion  too;  and  he  used  the 
whip  more  than  ever  before,  and  drove  reck- 
lessly. It  was  at  any  rate  no  mistake  that  his 
good  dog  Hector  began  to  look  timidly  at 
him,  as  if  he  too  suspected  something. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  79 

"Don't  be  uneasy!"  he  said  to  himself, 
"you've  risen  in  the  esteem  of  your  fellow- 
creatures,  at  any  rate."  The  fury  of  the 
country-side  against  Wangen  only  placed 
Norby  in  a  better  light.  If  one  man  took 
Wangen's  part,  it  stirred  up  twenty  to  range 
themselves  on  Norby's  side;  and  as  the  old 
man  drove  along  in  his  single  sledge,  dressed 
in  his  fur  coat,  people  bowed  lower  than  be- 
fore, and  those  who  had  hitherto  never  bowed 
did  so  now.  And  the  old  man  would  laugh 
silently  to  himself.  "The  beasts  despise  me 
for  what  I  have  done,"  he  thought,  "but  men 
respect  me.  Such  is  life!" 

"They  surely  can't  be  merely  making  fun 
of  me?"  he  thought  one  day.  "Suppose 
they're  only  showing  me  all  this  respect  in 
mockery!"  The  idea  was  unbearable,  and  he 
felt  he  must  make  sure  whether  it  were  so  or 
not. 

One  day  the  people  at  the  parsonage  were 
surprised  to  see  Norby  drive  up  to  the  door, 
and  come  tramping  in  in  his  great  driving- 
boots.  He  was  very  cheerful,  and  as  he  sat 
leaning  forward  and  stroking  his  knees,  he 


80  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

told  them  that  next  Saturday  he  and  his  wife 
had  determined  to  roast  a  pig  whole,  as  he 
had  seen  it  done  in  England,  and  if  any  one 
cared  to  come  they  might  get  a  bone  to  gnaw. 

Both  the  pastor  and  his  wife  began  to 
laugh,  for  Norby  always  gave  an  invitation  in 
his  own  peculiar  way.  And  the  old  man 
thought:  "They  can't  have  any  suspicion  of 
me  when  they  laugh  so  naturally";  and  when 
they  both  accepted  his  invitation,  he  felt 
himself  secure. 

He  also  dropped  in  at  the  doctor's,  and 
there  things  went  just  as  smoothly.  And  he 
was  at  the  bailiff's,  the  judge's  and  the  sher- 
iff's; and  when  he  finally  turned  his  face 
homewards  he  sat  and  chuckled. 

It  was,  as  usual,  a  capital  dinner  at  Norby. 
The  old  man  took  a  special  pleasure  in  being 
able  to  put  such  silver  and  wine  on  his 
table  as  none  of  the  other  magnates  could 
produce.  Both  the  pork  and  the  wine  raised 
the  spirits  of  the  guests,  and  the  old  man's 
face  shone,  and  grew  redder  and  brighter  the 
more  he  ate  and  drank  and  talked.  No  men- 
tion was  made  of  the  great  matter  itself;  but 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  81 

as  Norby  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and 
drank  with  one  after  another  down  the  rows, 
or  with  all  together,  he  noted  in  each  glance 
and  smile  the  very  feeling  he  wished  to  see, 
namely:  "You're  a  jolly  good  fellow!" 

When  at  last  the  company  were  scattered 
over  the  two  large  drawing-rooms  with  their 
coffee,  the  bailiff  came  and  drew  him  a  little 
aside;  and  while  they  stood  with  their  cups 
at  the  level  of  their  chests  the  bailiff  told  him 
in  a  whisper  that  the  judge  had  received  the 
guarantee  document.  The  bailiff  had  seen  it, 
and  he  must  say  that  Norby's  signature  was 
well  counterfeited.  But  Jorgen  Haarstad's! 
That  was  too  foolish!  Haarstad  did  not 
write  like  a  copy-book,  it  is  true ;  but  his  writ- 
ing was  not  so  crooked  and  illegible  as  all 
that,  that  the  bailiff  could  testify. 

"You  fool!"  thought  Norby,  and  drank 
liqueur  with  him.  "As  if  men  like  Haarstad 
didn't  write  their  name  in  a  dozen  different 
ways.  You  are  a  genius !"  But  aloud  he  said: 
"Have  you  spoken  to  Wangen?" 

The  bailiff  laughed.     "Indeed  I  have,"  he 

. 


82  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

said.  "He  declares  that  the  signing  took 
place  in  the  cafe  at  the  Grand." 

"That's  not  true,"  thought  Norby;  "it  was 
at  the  Hotel  Carl  Johan." 

The  bailiff  emptied  his  liqueur-glass  and 
continued:  "But  it's  awkward  for  him  that 
his  witness  is  dead,  and  that  there's  no  one 
who  saw  you  write  your  name.  And  it  gives 
a  bad  impression,  too,  to  hear  that  a  number 
of  people  are  now  getting  bills  from  his  general 
store  which  they  have  paid  long  ago.  He's  a 
shady  character." 

When  the  sound  of  the  last  sledge-bells 
passed  from  the  yard  a  little  over  midnight, 
Norby  began  to  walk  about  the  empty  rooms, 
rubbing  his  hands,  for  he  knew  now  for  cer- 
tain that  people  esteemed  him  as  the  old  Knut 
Norby. 

"But  in  the  Grand  cafe?  That's  a  down- 
right lie.  I've  never  in  my  life  put  my  name 
to  any  paper  there.  What  a  confounded  liar 
he  is!" 

The  consciousness  that  at  any  rate  a  frac- 
tion of  this  matter  was  a  lie,  now  felt  like  a 
relief.  No  one  in  the  world  could  prove 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  83 

that  he  had  ever  signed  anything  at  the 
Grand. 

"But  I  shall  win  the  whole  thing.  I  can 
be  quite  easy  about  that."  And  then  a  little 
later:  "But  shall  I  win?" 

He  sank  down  at  a  table  in  the  little  room 
leading  off  one  of  the  drawing-rooms,  on 
which  stood  a  bottle  of  liqueur.  When  Marit 
came  to  get  him  to  go  to  bed  she  was  very 
much  astonished  to  find  him  intoxicated,  and 
she  could  not  get  him  to  move.  An  hour  later 
she  went  with  a  candle  in  her  hand  through 
the  dark  rooms  where  the  tobacco-smoke  still 
hung  in  light  clouds.  There  was  a  light  be- 
hind the  curtains  in  the  doorway.  She  peeped 
cautiously  in,  and  saw  that  the  old  man  had 
sunk  back  on  to  the  sofa,  and  was  asleep 
with  his  glass  in  his  hand. 


CHAPTER  VII 

DOWN  by  the  fjord  lay  a  little  one-storied 
house,  half  hidden  by  large  trees  within  a 
garden.  Here  lived  Fru  Thora  Skard,  the 
widow  of  the  inspector  of  forests.  Upon  the 
death  of  her  husband  she  had  withdrawn  from 
the  social  life  to  which  she  was  accustomed, 
and  henceforth  lived  quietly  behind  her  flow- 
ers in  her  pretty  little  rooms.  On  rare  occa- 
sions she  might  be  seen  going  out  to  some 
sick  or  poor  person  with  a  book  and  a  bas- 
ket. Although  she  was  more  than  forty,  she 
was  still  young  in  mind;  it  was  she  who  had 
started  the  young  people's  club  in  the  parish. 
Any  young  peasant  girl  who  wished  it  was 
certain  of  obtaining  from  her  free  instruction 
in  sewing  and  weaving.  She  had  a  little  boy 
called  Gunnar.  Being  a  sincere  admirer  of 
everything  national,  she  had  her  little  house, 
after  her  husband's  death,  renamed  and  reg- 
istered as  "Lidarende";  and  from  that  time 

84 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  85 

forward  she  liked  to  be  called  Thora  of  Li- 
darende. 

When  she  heard  the  news  about  Wangen 
she  thought:  "Poor  wife!  Poor  children 1" 
She  knew  Fru  Wangen  very  well,  and  she 
was  so  upset  about  this,  that  she  could  think 
of  nothing  else.  Although  she  had  only  a 
small  pension,  and  was  trying  moreover  to 
put  something  by  for  Gunnar,  her  kind  heart 
said  over  and  over  again:  "I  must  go  and 
help  them.  Three  children,  the  parents  desti- 
tute, and  then  this  crime !  It  would  be  wrong 
of  me  not  to  go." 

There  were  such  different  opinions  about 
Wangen's  guilt  and  innocence.  Fru  Thora 
was  sufficiently  well  acquainted  with  her  fel- 
low-creatures to  know  that  most  of  them  be- 
lieved Wangen  to  be  guilty  because  he  had 
already  gone  down  in  the  world.  She  wanted 
to  form  her  own  opinion  about  the  matter,  un- 
influenced by  others,  and  therefore  meditated 
deeply  upon  the  matter,  reasoning  from  her 
knowledge  of  the  two  men.  For  one  of  them 
must  be  in  the  wrong. 

It  happened  that  Norby  realized  in  him- 


86  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

self  and  his  belongings  some  of  the  ideals  that 
Fru  Thora  of  Lidarende  cherished.  She  had 
always  thought  there  was  something  particu- 
larly Norwegian  about  Norby.  The  broad, 
strongly-built  farmer,  living  in  his  large  house 
and  ruling  over  his  labourers,  was  like  a  direct 
descendant  of  the  old  kings.  In  the  store- 
house at  Norby  she  knew  there  lay  a  quan- 
tity of  old  harness,  drinking-bowls,  sledges, 
and  carved  household  articles,  and  she  had 
speculated  as  to  how  to  get  hold  of  them  for  a 
country  museum.  Without  her  noticing  it,  or 
being  able  to  prevent  it,  the  impression  from 
these  things  entered  into  her  valuation  of 
Norby  in  this  particular  case.  And  Wangen? 
He  was  the  son  of  that  magistrate  who  was 
noted  for  his  animosity  towards  the  peasant, 
and  yet  was  not  too  refined  himself  to  misap- 
propriate public  money;  and  now,  whenever 
Fru  Thora  thought  of  the  son,  it  was  as 
though  the  atmosphere  of  the  father  sur- 
rounded him.  Norby  and  Wangen  opposing 
one  another?  Could  there  be  any  doubt  in 
such  a  case? 

It  was   thus   that   Thora  of   Lidarende's 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  87 

opinion  on  this  matter  was  formed,  and  when 
once  it  was  there,  she  felt  no  doubt  at  all 
about  the  matter,  omitting  to  inquire  into  the 
origin  of  the  opinion. 

She  did  not,  however,  grow  to  dislike  or 
scorn  Wangen  on  account  of  this  crime.  On 
the  contrary,  she  felt  it  was  just  now  he  was 
to  be  pitied,  just  now  he  needed  help.  "You 
must  not  shirk  your  duty,"  her  kind  heart  said 
to  her  every  day;  and  she  had  no  peace  until 
she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  offer  to  take  one 
of  the  children. 

She  wanted,  moreover,  to  set  the  parish  an 
example  in  not  condemning  too  severely  one 
who  had  given  way  to  temptation;  and  on  the 
day  when  she  fought  her  way  in  a  snow-storm 
along  the  fjord  to  call  on  Fru  Wangen,  she 
felt  light-hearted,  notwithstanding  the  cold 
and  wind,  in  the  thought  that  even  this  sad 
affair  could  afford  her  an  opportunity  of  do- 
ing good. 

When  she  reached  the  Wangens'  house,  she 
was  told  by  the  maid  that  her  mistress  had 
been  confined;  but  as  this  was  the  fifth  day, 
Fru  Thora  was  allowed  to  go  in  to  her. 


88  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

Fru  Thora  could  scarcely  restrain  her  tears 
at  sight  of  this  unfortunate  woman,  who  had 
thrown  herself  away  upon  such  a  man;  and 
when  she  bent  over  the  bed,  and  Fru  Wangen 
threw  her  arms  about  her  neck,  they  both 
sobbed  aloud. 

They  talked  together  for  a  long  time  before 
Fru  Thora  broached  the  subject  of  her  er- 
rand; but  although  she  chose  her  words  care- 
fully, Fru  Wangen  seemed  offended,  and 
curtly  declined  her  offer.  And  when  Fru 
Thora  went  away  she  had  an  unhappy  feeling 
of  having  done  something  utterly  wrong. 

When  she  was  gone,  Wangen  went  in  to 
his  wife,  and  when  he  had  heard  Fru  Thora's 
errand,  stood  silent  with  a  peculiar  smile  upon 
his  face. 

"Oh,  indeed!"  he  said  at  last.  "They're 
beginning  to  want  to  take  our  children  from 
us  too  now,  are  they?" 

"But,  Henry,  don't  you  really  think  she 
meant  it  kindly?" 

He  laughed.  "Yes,  of  course!  Why,  they 
mean  everything  kindly." 

A  little  while  after  he  said:     "I  suppose 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  89 

they  understand  that  as  long  as  I  have  my 
family  about  me  I  have  a  kind  of  backbone. 
But,"  he  continued,  going  up  to  the  window, 
"that  she  too " 

He  stood  watching  the  energetic  little 
woman  struggling  down  the  road  against  a 
wind  that  almost  blew  her  away.  He  could 
really  see  now  that  her  errand  had  been  one 
of  which  she  was  ashamed. 

But  she  had  come  to  the  house  trying  to 
coax  his  wife  to  give  up  the  child  when  he  was 
not  there,  and  when  the  mother  lay  helpless 
in  bed.  He  suddenly  clenched  his  hands  in 
fierce  anger  as  he  looked  after  her.  How  she 
struggled  against  the  wind!  How  her  shawl 
fluttered}  A  shiver  ran  down  his  back  as  it 
struck  him  that  she  resembled  a  bat,  and  he 
thought  of  witches. 

"Henry!"  came  from  the  bed.  And  when 
he  turned,  his  wife  stretched  out  her  arms 
towards  him. 

He  bent  down,  and  when  he  felt  her  arms 
about  his  neck,  sank  upon  his  knees. 
"Henry!"  she  said,  stroking  the  back  of  his 


90  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

head;  "Henry!  You  mustn't  think  that  any 
of  us  will  forsake  you!" 

He  could  not  answer,  but  took  her  head  be- 
tween his  hands  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

"Poor  Henry!"  she  said  again.  "I  never 
thought  people  could  be  so  unkind/' 

When  at  last  he  rose,  he  said  in  a  kind  of 
exalted  indignation:  "I'll  pay  them  out  for 
this!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MADS  HERLTJFSEN  in  the  meantime  sat  for 
hours  together  looking  across  at  Norby.  In 
his  eyes  Norby  Farm  was  a  kind  of  fox's  den 
away  there  under  the  fir-clad  slope,  upon 
which  he  must  keep  watch  to  see  what  Rey- 
nard was  doing. 

At  the  approach  of  crises  in  forest  prices, 
and  of  political  elections,  it  was  always 
against  Norby  that  Mads  Herlufsen  directed 
his  moves.  When  he  won,  he  slapped  his 
thigh  and  was  in  good  spirits  for  more  than  a 
week.  If  Norby  were  successful  he  was  as 
ashamed  as  if  he  had  done  something  wrong 
himself.  But  although  these  two  little  kings 
thought  of  nothing  but  doing  one  another 
harm,  at  the  same  time  they  were  good  friends 
when  they  met.  They  warred  upon  one  an- 
other chiefly  because  there  was  no  other 
worthy  opponent  within  a  wide  area. 

Mads  Herlufsen  now  sat  pursing  up  his 
mouth,  looking  across  at  Norby  and  wonder- 

91 


92  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

ing.  '"What  does  he  mean  by  this?"  he 
thought;  for  he  was  always  accustomed  to 
think  this  when  Nor  by  did  anything.  "It 
certainly  isn't  that  he  wants  to  quarrel  with 
Wangen,  nor  is  it  for  the  sake  of  the  money. 
There  must  be  something  behind." 

At  last  he  discovered  that  Norby  wanted 
to  get  Wangen  punished  in  order  to  frustrate 
his  composition,  and  thus  force  the  brickfields 
under  the  hammer.  It  was  the  brickfields  that 
Reynard  wanted  to  get  hold  of  this  time. 

For  a  little  time  Mads  Herlufsen  sat  rub- 
bing his  nose  in  disappointment  at  not  being 
able  to  think  of  a  counter-move.  He  did  not 
care  in  the  least  whether  Wangen  were  guilty 
or  not;  his  only  care  was  for  Norby. 

"Do  I  want  the  brickfields?  Bless  me,  no! 
But  why  should  Norby  have  them?" 

At  last  a  thought  struck  him.  One  of  his 
farm  labourers,  Soren  Kvikne,  had  once  been 
in  the  employment  of  the  deceased  witness, 
Jorgen  Haarstad.  Wangen  had  no  witnesses 
now  that  Haarstad  was  dead.  Suppose  Soren 
Kvikne  could  be  utilized! 

He  remembered  what  an  honest  man  Soren 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  93 

Kvikne  had  always  been,  so  he  took  out  a  bot- 
tle of  brandy  and  sent  over  to  the  men's  quar- 
ters for  him,  for  the  men  were  in  at  dinner. 

It  was  not  a  customary  thing  for  the  men 
to  be  called  into  the  sitting-room  of  the  farm ; 
and  when  Soren  Kvikne  went  in,  he  looked 
about  cautiously  to  see  where  he  should  spit, 
and  scarcely  dared  to  seat  himself  upon  the 
beautiful  chair. 

But  Herlufsen  gave  him  a  long  pipe  to 
smoke,  and  placed  him  on  the  sofa  opposite 
himself,  and  after  filling  his  glass  two  or  three 
times,  said  to  him: 

"Weren't  you  once  in  the  employment  of 
Haarstad,  Soren?" 

Soren  Kvikne  fingered  his  thin  beard,  and 
gazed  in  front  of  him  with  a  melancholy  stare. 
Oh  yes!  He  was,  he  answered. 

"You  can't  remember,  I  suppose,  whether 
Haarstad  ever  mentioned  anything  about  hav- 
ing signed  his  name  as  a  witness  for  Wangen 
and  Norby?" 

Soren  Kvikne  shook  his  head.  He  could 
not  remember  it  at  all. 


94  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"Well,  well,"  said  Herlufsen,  "y°u  must 
think  a  little,  Soren." 

Soren  thought  a  little — but  no! — no! 

"For  it's  possible  that  the  whole  thing  may 
depend  upon  you,"  said  Herlufsen. 

The  man  looked  askance  at  his  master;  but 
Herlufsen  was  perfectly  serious,  and  when  he 
went  away,  told  him  to  remember  that  the 
whole  matter  now  depended  upon  him. 

When  Soren  Kvikne  came  back  to  the 
men's  room,  he  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor 
and  asked  in  a  loud  voice  whether  any  of  the 
others  had  even  been  in  the  farm  parlour  and 
drunk  a  dram  and  smoked  a  long  pipe  with 
the  master. 

At  this  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter,  where- 
upon Soren  grew  angry,  and  let  them  know 
that  the  whole  matter  between  Wangen  and 
Norby  now  depended  upon  him. 

"Upon  you?"  exclaimed  several  voices;  and 
some,  who  were  reclining  on  the  benches,  sat 
up  and  looked  curiously  at  him. 

"Yes,  upon  me,"  said  Soren,  nodding  his 
head.  But  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  got 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  95 

out  of  him ;  he  was  not  a  man  to  let  his  tongue 
run  away  with  him. 

From  that  day  he  had  no  peace  either  day 
or  night.  Whenever  he  met  his  master,  he 
was  urged  on  with:  "Haven't  you  considered 
that  matter  yet?"  It  was  quite  true  he  had 
been  in  Haarstad's  service  five  years,  and  it 
was  quite  true  that  Haarstad  and  he  had  often 

talked  together  alone;  but — but He 

scratched  his  ear  a  great  many  times  a  day. 
He  talked  to  his  wife  about  the  matter,  and 
his  wife  too  said  he  must  think  a  little.  And 
Soren  did  think  a  little.  He  thought  both  day 
and  night,  since  the  whole  matter  now  de- 
pended upon  him. 

It  couldn't  be  that  time  Haarstad  and  he — 
no,  no,  it  wasn't  then.  No,  if  it  was  any 
time,  then — then  it  must  have  been  when  they 
were  painting  the  carriole  together.  Haarstad 
was  painting  the  shafts,  and  he  was  doing  the 
wheels  and  the  body.  They  were  standing  in 
the  sun  behind  the  barn.  And  this  scene,  in 
which  they  painted  the  carriole,  fastened  itself 
little  by  little  in  Soren's  mind,  until  he  grad- 
ually became  certain  that  if  there  positively 


The  Power  of  a  Lie 


was  a  time  when  Haarstad  confided  the  mat- 
ter to  him,  it  must  have  been  then;  and  when 
he  came  to  think  of  it,  it  certainly  was  on  that 
occasion. 

When  he  told  Herlufsen  one  day  that  he 
had  thought  the  matter  over,  he  could  not  un- 
derstand why  his  master  became  so  exceed- 
ingly affable.  Herlufsen  told  him  he  might 
take  a  holiday  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  He 
might  go  down  to  Wangen  and  ask  to  be 
called  as  a  witness. 


IX 


THE  inquiry  was  low  approaching,  and  the 
nearer  it  came,  the  more  uneasy  did  Norby 
become.  He  iad  found  no  way  out  of  his 
difficulty  yeV  and  he  began  to  fear  that  he 
would  nof  be  able  to  find  one.  Whichever 
way  he  turned,  he  ran  against  his  own  asser- 
tions; ard  these  assertions,  which  now  lived 
in  peope's  minds  and  travelled  by  post  and 
railway,  had  grown  into  a  power,  greater  than 
Norby  himself;  they  were  like  a  son  grown 
beyon<>  the  control  of  his  father ;  they  dragged 
him  OB  continually,  they  compelled  him  with 
thread  *Q  stand  on  their  side  in  this  matter. 

He  would  not  go  to  an  inquiry,  however, 
for.tien  he  would  have  to  take  his  oath;  and 
he  vwis  not  so  far  gone  yet  as  to  go  there  and 
perj  ire  himself. 

*7m  beginning  to  feel  my  rheumatism 
agaii,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  when  he  was  rest- 
less it  night. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  there  was  a  sus- 


98  Tie  Power  of  a  Lie 

picious  stillness  over  the  country-side,  in  spite 
of  what  he  had  done — a  stillness  as  if  someone 
were  lying  in  wait.  He  himself  had  no  desire 
to  talk  of  anything  but  this  one  matter;  for  he 
thought  of  nothing  else,  and  was  only  easy  in 
his  mind  when  others  listtned  to  what  he 
said,  and  had  no  time,  as  it  were,  to  think  for 
themselves. 

But  each  new  falsehood  always  ost  another 
as  its  proof,  and  that  in  its  turn  another.  He 
had  to  keep  a  constant  watch  mpoi  himself, 
lest  his  tongue  should  run  away  yith  him; 
he  was  afraid  of  perhaps  letting  something 
out  in  his  sleep,  and  hardly  dared  sleej' 

But  day  by  day  the  inquiry  drew  i.earer, 
and  he  involuntarily  began  to  grope  abmt  for 
a  means  of  pulling  through  after  all  if  in 
spite  of  everything  it  should  come  to  m  in- 
quiry. 

But  what  he  now  had  to  get  ready  to  s«v  at 
the  bar  would  be  falsehoods  again;  and  atthis 
Norby  stopped  like  a  horse  that  will  not  Den- 
ture upon  an  unsafe  bridge.  He  pushed  lack- 
wards;  he  was  afraid;  he  was  not  accustcmed 
to  it. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  99 

No  one  is  so  much  in  the  humour  for 
philosophizing  as  he  who  is  suffering  in  secret. 
As  he  cannot  talk  upon  the  subject  he  would 
most  prefer,  he  chooses  something  similar. 
One  day,  when  Norby  heard  of  the  sudden 
death  of  an  acquaintance  of  his  in  another 
part  of  the  parish,  a  cold  shiver  ran  through 
him  as  an  inward  voice  whispered:  "You 
will  be  the  next,  Norby." 

That  evening,  when  he  and  his  wife  were  in 
bed  and  the  light  was  out,  he  yawned  heavily, 
and  said  in  a  tired  voice: 

"Isn't  it  a  strange  thing  that  we  human 
beings,  who  may  die  at  any  moment,  should 
pass  all  our  time  in  doing  evil  to  others?" 

Marit  sighed  and  smoothed  out  the  sheet 
over  the  counterpane. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "it  is." 

"And  when  we  look  into  our  own  hearts, 
we  see  that  even  those  who  go  wrong  and 
commit  crime  need  not  be  any  worse  than  one 
of  us." 

After  a  brief  pause  Marit  answered:  "No, 
not  if  they  repent;  there  is  pardon  for  them 
too,  then,  I  suppose." 


100  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

It  was  very  quiet  during  the  pauses  in  their 
conversation.  The  winter  night  was  dark  and 
cold,  and  now  and  again  the  wind  was  heard 
whistling  past  the  corner  like  a  dying  howl. 

In  this  feeling  of  death  and  the  dark  night, 
Norby  again  saw  the  parish — his  parish;  but 
this  time  all  the  people  were  alike,  they  were 
all  ready  to  die,  all  cold,  pale,  suffering  be- 
ings, such  as  one  ought  to  be  good  to. 

"Do  you  know  what  I'm  thinking  about, 
MaritP 

"No,"  came  the  rather  sleepy  answer. 

"Why,  that  if  we  do  something  downright 
bad  it's  not  at  all  certain  that  the  consequences 
will  be  obliterated  if  we  die.  It's  very  likely 
they  go  on  living  and  doing  harm  to  others 
for  a  long  time." 

"H'm!" 

"But  can  you  tell  me  then  how  such  a  man 
can  have  peace  in  his  grave?" 

Marit  expressed  her  opinion  that  our  intel- 
ligence was  not  sufficient  for  that,  and  turned 
over  on  the  other  side. 

The  old  man  lay  long,  however,  seeing  a 
long  string  of  Wangen's  descendants  having 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  101 

to  suffer  for  this.  Could  he  then  at  the  same 
time  be  saved  and  sit  in  heaven?  He  lay 
there  looking  and  looking,  until  he  grew  hot 
with  anxiety  lest  he  should  not  get  any  sleep 
that  night  either.  He  began  to  be  sure  that 
he  had  some  disease  or  other,  perhaps  heart- 
disease.  And  then,  while  he  stood  in  the  wit- 
ness-box and  held  up  his  fingers,  it  would 
come.  He  would  drop  down. 

"Oh  God,  be  merciful  to  my  soul!" 
At  last  he  sat  up  in  bed  and  quietly  struck 
a  match.    Heaven  help  us!    It  was  past  two 
already,  and  he  had  not  slept  yet. 

When  he  once  more  tried  to  go  to  sleep,  he 
began  to  see  how  difficult  it  is  honestly  and 
fairly  to  put  right  a  wrong  done. 

PHe  lay  with  closed  eyes  and  saw  it  all. 
"If  I  wanted  to  make  it  all  straight  again,'* 
he  said  to  himself,  "neither  getting  forgive- 
ness from  God  nor  taking  my  punishment  in 
a  prison  would  help,  for  my  wicked  accusa- 
tion would  still  live  somewhere.  But  if  I 
could  find  out  all  the  ways  it  had  gone,  and 
follow  all  the  threads  to  the  end,  should  I  be 
finished  then?  No.  I  should  have  to  give 


102  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

compensation  for  the  evil  consequences.  One 
will  have  forgotten  the  falsehood,  another  will 
have  laughed  at  it,  but  a  third  will  remember 
it  and  make  Wangen  suffer  for  it.  But  sup- 
pose I  could  make  up  for  this  too?  Would 
that  be  the  end  of  it?  No.  There  would  still 
be  need  to  pay  for  what  he  suffered  all  the 
time  people  believed  him  guilty.  Can  that  be 
paid  for?  No!  No!"  And  he  involuntarily 
shook  his  head  as  he  lay  with  closed  eyes. 
How  was  he  to  get  to  sleep  ? 

The  next  day  he  roused  himself  and  went 
up  to  Gudbrandsdal,  where  he  owned  large 
forests,  and  where  his  men  were  driving  tim- 
ber. He  felt  that  he  must  get  away — he 
must  forget. 

Up  there  he  was  not  a  rich  man  dressed  in 
furs.  He  was  in  a  frieze  suit,  and  went  on  ski 
through  the  forest;  and  the  exercise  and  the 
fresh  air  did  him  good.  He  saw  immense 
piles  of  timber,  and  it  was  his;  he  stopped 
now  and  again  to  look  out  over  endless 
stretches  of  tufted  fir-trees,  sprinkled  with 
snow  and  gilded  by  the  sun,  and  they  were 
his. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  103 

"If  Wangen  had  even  been  a  worthy  an- 
tagonist/' he  thought,  as  he  leant  upon  his  ski- 
staff  and  surveyed  his  wealth.  "If  it  had  been 
Herlufsen  now."  But  this  man  was  down 
in  the  world,  and  did  not  own  so  much  as  the 
spoon  he  ate  with.  "And  it's  that  poor  wretch 
you  want  to  injure!"  he  said  to  himself.  "And 
not  even  using  honourable  means;  for  you're 
attacking  him  in  the  rear — attacking  a  dead 
man  in  the  rear!"  He  felt  inclined  to  thrash 
himself. 

When  he  got  home  he  had  caught  cold  and 
was  a  little  feverish  in  the  night.  He  himself 
thought  it  might  be  typhoid  fever,  and  that  he 
would  die ;  and  he  was  tortured  by  the  thought 
of  the  evil  action  that  would  live  after  him. 

At  last  one  morning  he  felt  he  could  bear  it 
no  longer,  and  determined  to  get  rid  of  the 
whole  thing — first  go  to  his  wife  and  tell  her 
the  truth,  and  then  go  to  the  bailiff  and  make 
things  right  with  him.  Now  it  was  settled, 
thank  goodness  1 

But  just  as  he  was  getting  out  of  bed, 
Marit  called  from  the  door  that  there  was 


104  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

some  one  downstairs  who  had  been  waiting  for 
him  for  ever  so  long. 

"That's  sure  to  be  the  bailiff/'  he  said  to 
himself,  turning  cold  at  the  thought.  But 
when  he  came  down  he  found  it  was  an  old 
farm  labourer,  Lars  Kleven,  who  wanted  to 
speak  to  him. 

"Come  into  the  office!"  said  Norby. 

He  was  vexed  that  it  was  only  this  old  man 
who  had  frightened  him  and  made  him  hasten 
his  dressing. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked,  sitting 
down  before  his  writing-table. 

To  his  great  astonishment  the  old  man 
came  close  up  to  him  and  seated  himself  so 
that  he  could  look  Norby  straight  in  the  face. 

"It's  a  hard  task  I  have  to-day,"  began  the 
old  man. 

"Indeed?"  said  Norby  impatiently. 

"I've  come  to  ask  you,  sir" — he  stopped  to 
cough — "whether  you've  laid  this  matter  with 
Wangen  before  the  Lord." 

Norby  stared.  He  leant  back  in  his  chair 
and  stared  still  more;  and  wretched  as  he 
felt,  he  could  not  help  bursting  out  laughing. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  105 

He  thought,  as  he  had  so  often  done,  that  it 
was  his  father  who  sat  there  listening  to  this. 
And  to  think  that  one  of  his  small  tenants, 
an  old  clod,  whom  he  kept  alive  up  on  the 
hill  out  of  kindness,  that  he  should  come  here 
and  want  to  interfere  in  a  matter  that  con- 
cerned only  himself  and  Providence!  No, 
that  was  too  much!  And  Norby  laughed.  It 
was  like  an  avalanche  falling,  and  he  shouted 
and  could  not  stop,  until  the  floor  shook  un- 
der him.  Finally,  he  did  not  know  whether 
to  give  this  poor  fellow  a  krone  or  kick  him 
out  of  the  room. 

"And  what  then?"  he  at  last  managed  to 
ask,  trying  to  be  serious. 

The  old  cottager  placed  his  hands  upon  his 
stick,  which  he  held  between  his  knees,  and 
continued  calmly: 

"I  want  to  rest  quiet  in  my  coffin;  but  I'd 
rather  not  go  and  witness  against  you,  sir." 

"What?"  said  Norby,  involuntarily  draw- 
ing nearer.  "Has  any  one  asked  you  to  do 
so?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  cottager. 


106  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"Is  Wangen  allowing  you  tobacco  on  cred- 
it?" 

"It's  God  Almighty  who's  asked  me." 

There  was  a  pause.  Then  Norby  cleared 
his  throat,  and  asked: 

"And  what  have  you  got  to  witness  about, 
eh?" 

"I  went  to  town  with  you  that  time,  sir." 

"When?" 

"The  time  you  signed  that  paper,"  said  the 
old  man. 

Norby  grasped  the  arms  of  his  chair  and 
pressed  his  lips  together,  and  the  two  men 
looked  at  one  another.  At  last  Norby  clear- 
ed his  throat  again. 

"You're  in  your  second  childhood,"  he  said. 
"You'd  better  get  home  and  go  to  bed."  He 
rose  and  turned  towards  the  window,  but  then 
seemed  to  recollect  something  fresh,  and 
looked  again  at  the  cottager. 

"And,  by  the  by,  if  you  appear  at  the  in- 
^quiry  I  shall  have  you  declared  irresponsible. 
Now  go!" 

"Good-bye!"  said  the  other  gently  as  he 
moved  toward  the  door.  "I  only  wanted  to  lie 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  107 

quiet  in  my  coffin,"  he  said  once  more,  and 
then  went  quietly  out. 

Norby  remained  standing  at  the  window 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  It  had  done 
him  good  to  be  able  to  laugh  for  once;  but  it 
was  still  better  to  be  able  to  be  angry  with 
some  one  besides  one's  self. 

They'd  better  just  come  and  interfere  in 
matters  that  concerned  only  himself  and  God 
Almighty!  If  they  did,  he  was  still  man 
enough  to  show  them  the  door.  They'd  bet- 
ter begin  suspecting  that  he  was  not  happy! 
If  they  did,  he  would  be  man  enough  to  show 
them  something  else.  It  would  not  be  that 
poor  old  fellow,  at  any  rate,  who  would  make 
him  break  down.  There  would  be  no  confession 
to-day.  Some  way  out  of  the  difficulty  could 
still  be  found. 

While  he  was  sitting  at  supper  that  eve- 
ning, Marit  said  with  a  little  laugh:  "Do  you 
know  that  the  widow  down  at  Lidarende  has 
started  helping  Wangen?" 

"No."  But  it  was  a  piece  of  news  that 
stung,  and  he  thought  of  that  active  woman 
with  the  bright  face  that  usually  smiled  at 


108  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

him;  but  suddenly  her  face  seemed  to  be- 
come grave,  to  turn  away  from  him  towards 
Wangen. 

It  would  be  a  nice  thing  indeed  if  they 
began  to  doubt  Wangen's  guilt  in  the  parish. 
If  they  one  and  all  continued  to  believe  in  it, 
so  that  Norby  could  be  at  peace  with  God 
Almighty,  he  might  still  make  his  confession. 
But  he  would  have  peace.  They  must  not 
think  they  could  take  him  by  force. 

Something  healthy  within  him  seemed  to 
begin  to  grow  and  rise  in  opposition  whenever 
any  one  irritated  him.  He  could  not  get  this 
woman,  who  was  on  her  way  to  Wangen  to 
help  him,  out  of  his  head.  The  master  of  the 
parish  school,  who  had  defeated  Norby  in 
the  school  committee,  was  a  friend  of  hers. 
The  fool!  Norby  soon  saw  him  accompany- 
ing her  in  order  to  join  Wangen,  and  at 
night,  when  he  lay  in  bed,  he  saw  yet  others 
leaving  him  to  go  over  to  the  adversary. 

"Just  see  if  my  enemies  don't  make  this  an 
opportunity  of  injuring  me!"  he  thought,  and 
the  anger  that  this  roused  made  him  still 
stronger.  What  a  relief  it  was  to  be  able  to 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  109 

turn  his  eyes  away  from  himself,  and  instead 
occupy  his  thoughts  with  what  was  possibly 
taking  place  in  the  parish !  He  wouldn't  won- 
der if  his  enemies  utilized  the  opportunity. 

One  day  he  heard  that  his  old  enemy,  Law- 
yer Basting,  was  going  to  defend  Wangen, 
and  that  he  was  not  only  going  to  insist  upon 
an  acquittal,  but  claim  enormous  damages. 
Wangen,  moreover,  had  found  witnesses  who 
would  prove  that  for  a  long  time  Norby  had 
done  all  he  could  to  injure  his  business. 

Nbrby  began  to  laugh,  and  then  sprang  up 
and  began  to  bustle  about  with  his  thumb 
hooked  into  the  armhole  of  his  waistcoat. 
After  a  time  he  stopped  and  drew  a  long 
breath  as  if  of  relief. 

"No,  really,  Marit!  The  wolf's  beginning 
to  howl  now.  Basting!  So  that  hedge-law- 
yer has  at  last  got  a  case,  has  he?  Ha,  ha! 

And  then  these  lies  about  my  having 

No,  this  is  really  too  much,  Marit!" 

"Isn't  that  just  what  I  said?"  said  Marit. 

From  that  day  forward  the  parish  was  al- 
ways in  Knut  Norby's  mind,  that  parish  which 
he  saw  best  when  he  closed  his  eyes.  All 


110  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

that  every  one  now  did  was  to  walk  along 
roads  and  sit  in  rooms  and  gather  together 
and  take  sides  in  this  matter.  He  guessed 
more  and  more  who  were  gathering  against 
him.  He  would  perhaps  be  left  quite  alone 
at  last;  and  they  would  make  use  of  this  in 
order  to  do  for  him  entirely.  Mind  and  health 
grew  stronger  and  stronger  in  Knut  Norby. 
It  was  too  bad  of  Christian  people  to  go  and 
witness  falsely  against  him.  He  had  never 
wanted  to  injure  Wangen's  business,  never! 

He  was  in  bed  one  morning  when  Marit 
came  and  told  him  about  Soren  Kvikne,  who 
had  been  in  service  with  Haarstad.  He 
sprang  up  and  began  to  look  for  his  slippers, 
and  said,  laughing: 

"By  Jove,  Marit,  Mads  Herlufsen  has  had 
his  finger  in  that  pie!" 

This  eased  him  of  his  last  burden.  It  was 
not  hard  on  Wangen  any  longer  now,  for  he 
had  so  many  powerful  friends,  and  besides, 
he  was  circulating  falsehoods.  It  now  became 
as  it  were  a  matter  between  Norby  and  Her- 
lufsen. Norby  had  at  last  found  a  worthy 
opponent. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  111 

There  came  fresh  rumours.  Wangen  had 
asserted  that  Norby  had  cheated  him  in  a  tim- 
ber transaction;  then  that  he  had  defrauded 
the  widow  whose  trustee  he  was.  In  his 
righteous  indignation,  Wangen  did  not  weigh 
his  words  very  carefully,  and  they  all  came 
to  Norby  as  poisonous,  irritating  stings,  ex- 
citing the  old  man  by  their  positive  untruth, 
and  helping  him  more  and  more  to  forget  the 
original  matter,  and  instead  to  look  upon  him- 
self as  attacked,  persecuted,  and  compelled 
to  defend  himself. 

But  the  indignation  he  now  felt  only  pro- 
duced a  growing  improvement  in  his  health, 
and  he  began  in  real  earnest  to  prepare  for 
the  inquiry  with  moves  and  counter-moves. 
It  was  no  longer  a  question  of  who  was  in 
the  right,  but  of  who  would  lose.  It  was  no 
longer  a  matter  Between  him  and  God  Al- 
mighty, but  between  him  and  his  enemies. 
Every  time  he  heard  of  new  witnesses  ap- 
pearing upon  his  opponent's  side,  his  anxiety 
lest  he  should  fail  increased;  and  this  urged 
him  on  incessantly  to  think  of  ways  of  being 
even  with  these  men.  "We  shall  see  if  they 


112  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

succeed!"  he  said  to  himself  with  clenched 
teeth.  He  recollected  now  the  evil  that  many 
of  these  witnesses  had  done  to  him  in  days 
gone  by.  They  were  like  old  wounds,  that 
opened  and  added  their  pain  to  that  of  the 
fresh  ones.  He  became  more  and  more  an- 
gry; he  no  longer  thought,  but  only  looked 
about  for  weapons  with  which  to  strike. 

The  strange  thing  was  that  Norby  began  to 
be  at  peace  in  his  inmost  soul.  The  wound 
in  the  innermost  recesses  of  his  heart  was 
forgotten,  and  he  thought  only  of  those  that 
grazed  the  skin;  so  he  began  to  sleep  better, 
regained  his  appetite,  and  was  in  good  spirits. 
He  had  a  good  conscience,  such  as  a  man  may 
have  who,  being  innocent  on  twenty  charges, 
forgets  that  he  is  guilty  on  the  twenty-first. 
When  he  thought  of  all  the  twenty,  he,  as  it 
were,  told  God  Almighty  that  they  balanced. 

There  was  no  longer  an  impressive  stillness 
round  about  him.  There  was  a  noise.  He 
went  on  with  his  preparations,  went  to  his 
lawyer  in  Christiania,  always  recollecting  new 
false  accusations  and  writing  them  down,  let- 
ting himself  be  wounded  by  them  in  order  to 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  113 

feel  thoroughly  how  innocent  he  was.  If 
there  came  moments  when  all  was  quiet  about 
him,  he  went  on  expecting  new  false  accusa- 
tions. He  wanted  them.  If  none  came,  he 
made  some  up  without  noticing  that  he  did  so. 
"Of  course  they  say  now  that  I  disown  this 
signature  out  of  avarice.  I!  Or  because  I 
am  afraid  of  my  wife.  Knut  Norby  afraid  of 
his  wife!"  It  irritated  him  that  people  could 
say  such  things,  and  he  made  up  new  charges 
one  after  another,  without  noticing  that  they 
were  made  up.  They  were  like  glasses  of  spir- 
its, which  always  kept  him  in  a  hazy  condition, 
always  buoyed  him  up,  always  made  him  for- 
get what  he  most  desired  to  forget,  always 
gave  him  a  feeling  of  innocence  and  of  being 
in  the  right. 

The  inquiry  was  now  close  at  hand,  and  the 
old  man  drove  about  the  country-side  and  col- 
lected counter-evidence.  He  was  quite  ready 
for  the  inquiry  now. 


PART  (II 


CHAPTER  I 

IN  a  room  in  a  Christiania  boarding-house  a 
young  man  was  sitting  with  his  elbows  on  the 
table  and  his  head  in  his  hands.  In  front  of 
him  lay  a  large  open  book,  with  certain  pas- 
sages underlined  with  red;  but  he  was  not 
reading.  It  was  Einar  Norby,  Knut's  only 
surviving  son;  and  he  was  a  student  of 
philology,  and  was  reading  for  his  final  exam- 
ination. 

The  window  was  open  to  the  warm  March 
sun,  but  now  he  rose,  and  went  to  shut  it,  as 
the  noise  from  the  street  disturbed  his 
thoughts.  He  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the 
floor,  now  and  then  passing  his  hand  across 
his  forehead  with  a  pained  movement.  "What 
shall  I  do  about  this?"  he  thought.  "For 
things  have  taken  a  different  aspect  now." 

He  was  a  tall,  slim,  fair  young  man  of 
about  five-and-twenty.  His  not  yet  having 
taken  his  degree  was  not  owing  to  laziness. 
He  had  first  studied  theology  for  a  couple  of 

117 


118  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

years ;  but  one  day  he  had  gone  home  and  had 
appeared  before  his  father  in  his  office  to  say 
privately  that  he  could  not  go  on  with  it  any 
longer,  that  his  conscience  would  not  let  him 
be  a  priest. 

His  father  sat  gnawing  the  end  of  his  pipe, 
and  when  he  had  listened  to  his  son's  ex- 
planation, said:  "Well,  well,  you're  quite 
right,  my  boy,  to  give  it  up  if  you  are  so  sure 
of  what  you're  doing.  It'll  be  worse  for  your 
mother;  but  I  must  try  and  talk  to  her."  So 
Einar  went  abroad  to  travel  for  a  year  and 
look  about  him,  and  on  his  return  he  had 
taken  up  philology. 

A  week  earlier  he  had  heard  in  a  letter  from 
his  mother  of  Wangen's  forgery,  and  it  had 
at  once  excited  his  greatest  astonishment,  for 
he  remembered  with  perfect  distinctness  how 
one  day  three  or  four  years  ago  his  father 
had  come  up  to  him  and  said:  "Wangen's 
got  the  better  of  me  nicely  to-day!"  And 
then  he  had  told  him  about  the  guarantee, 
but  begged  him  not  to  tell  any  one,  not  even 
his  mother.  This  had  surprised  him  at  the 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  119 

time,  and  perhaps  it  was  for  that  very  reason 
that  he  remembered  it  so  distinctly. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  he  asked  himself  over 
and  over  again.  It  was  possible  there  was 
some  misunderstanding,  but  he  nevertheless 
thought  it  best  to  write  to  his  father  about  it. 

He  had  had  an  answer  to-day.  The  old 
man  wrote  that  Einar  was  talking  nonsense. 
He  had  never  had  anything  to  do  with  Wan- 
gen. 

"Is  it  nonsense?"  thought  Einar  as  he 
paced  his  room.  His  father  wrote  quite  con- 
fidently that  it  was  all  nonsense;  but  Einai* 
took  Heaven  to  witness  that  it  was  not.  The 
more  he  thought  about  it,  the  more  certain 
he  was  that  he  remembered  accurately. 

"But  what  shall  I  do?"  he  said  again;  for 
he  felt  that  he  could  not  at  once  give  in  about 
it.  "Suppose  Wangen  is  innocent  and  I  am 
the  only  person  who  can  save  him.  Mother 
wrote  too  that  Wangen  had  no  witnesses. 
What  shall  I  do?" 

The  inquiry  was  to  take  place  in  a  few  days, 
so  he  could  not  put  off  acting  any  longer. 

"And  father  writes  that  he  has  never  had 


120  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

anything  to  do  with  Wangen ;  so  it  cannot  re- 
fer to  some  other  matter  than  the  one  I  re- 
member. Is  it  possible  that  father  is  so  for- 
getful, or — r 

Certain  of  his  father's  ways  in  business 
matters  had  often  jarred  upon  Einar.  But 
this?  No! 

"But  suppose  that  Wangen  is  punished  for 
what  he  is  innocent  of?  Could  I  ever  be 
happy  again  ?" 

He  threw  himself  upon  the  sofa  and  cov- 
ered his  eyes  with  his  hand.  Supposing  he 
went  home  and  put  things  to  his  father? 
What  a  row  there  would  be!  And  if  his  fa- 
ther had  really  embarked  upon  something 
wrong,  he  supposed  it  was  too  late  now  to 
turn  back,  at  any  rate  from  the  old  man's 
point  of  view. 

"But  what  am  I  to  do?  Shall  I  not  do 
anything  at  all?" 

The  thought  of  what  it  would  involve, 
namely,  his  going  before  the  court  and  giving 
evidence  against  his  father,  made  him  dizzy. 
But  if  he  were  to  interfere  at  all  in  the  mat- 
ter, he  must  be  prepared  for  all  that  it  in- 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  121 

volved.  On  the  one  side  stood  his  father, 
and  on  the  other  the  impulse  to  do  what  was 
right;  and  he  heard  a  mocking  voice  within 
him  say:  "There,  now  you  can  see  how  easy 
it  is  to  rise  above  family  considerations !  What 
if  it  had  been  some  one  else  and  not  your 
father?" 

Einar  Norby  had  often  been  guilty  of 
judging  harshly,  especially  in  the  case  of  pub- 
lic men.  He  belonged  to  the  generation  of 
young  men  who,  through  bitter  disappoint- 
ments, have  conceived  a  deep  suspicion  both 
of  the  ideas  and  of  the  men  who  had  once 
aroused  the  enthusiasm  of  their  early  youth. 

While  he  lay  upon  the  sofa  with  his  hand 
over  his  eyes,  the  mocking  voice  within  him 
went  on:  "Now  you  must  show  what  one 
ought  to  do.  Be  sure  you  don't  show  any 
family  considerations ;  don't  be  a,  party  to  any 
corruption,  like  public  men!  Do  what  is 
right!  How  you  have  been  applauded  in  the 
Students'  Club  when  you  have  spoken  of  pub- 
lic men  who  float  about  on  vague  sentiments, 
and  whose  conscience  is  kept  entirely  by  rela- 
tions and  friends.  You  once  said  that  their 


122  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

tt 
meaning  well  was  no  defence;  for  they  made 

their  judgment  drunk  with  sentiments  that 
did  not  concern  them,  and  thought  they  were 
honest,  like  the  drunkard  who  believes  that  he 
alone  is  sober.  Take  care!  Don't  be  a  cow- 
ard! Be  sure  you  do  what  is  right!  It  can- 
not be  such  a  dreadful  thing  to  come  forward 
and  give  evidence  against  your  father  when 
you  are  in  the  right!" 

It  seemed  to  take  him  by  the  throat.  There 
appeared  to  be  no  choice  between  the  two 
things,  either  to  be  a  coward,  or  to  go  home 
and  bring  unhappiness  upon  all  those  he 
loved. 

At  moments  such  as  these,  when  a  momen- 
tous decision  has  to  be  made,  perhaps  at 
great  cost,  there  are  always  certain  voices  that 
lull  and  weaken.  "You  are  a  fool!"  they  said. 
"What  in  the  world  do  you  want  to  meddle 
with  that  matter  for?  Your  father  has  one 
son  living,  and  that  son  now  wants  to  get  his 
;father  sent  to  prison.  Do  you  know  anything 
ftbout  the  matter?  You  talk  a  lot  of  twaddle 
about  remembering  this,  that,  and  the  other; 
but  what  about  your  father?  Do  you  sup- 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  123 

pose  he  doesn't  remember  what  he  did?  Does 
he  generally  act  like  a  scoundrel?  In  any 
case,  stick  to  your  last!  Leave  to  the  courts 
of  justice  that  which  belongs  to  them,  and 
see  if  you  really  can  manage  to  be  ready  for 
your  examination!" 

This  relieved  him  for  a  time,  but  when  he 
rose  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down,  he  once 
more  saw  the  funny,  white-bearded  mask  that 
somewhere  in  his  inner  consciousness  began  to 
grin.  "Of  course  not,  don't  have  anything  to 
do  with  it!  You  might  risk  something  this 
time,  for  this  time  it  affects  yourself,  your 
'own  pepole.  But  talk  in  a  loud  voice  when 
it's  about  persons  that  you  don't  know!  De- 
claim then,  and  bring  tears  into  people's 
eyes;  but  now?  Be  silent!  Sneak  off!  Hide 
yourself!  And  start  again  to-morrow,  when 
you  take  aim  at  some  poor  person  who  doesn't 
belong  to  you!  Be  one  of  those  champions 
of  truth  for  whom  you  have  always  shown 
such  contempt!" 

He  grew  more  and  more  agitated.  He  sat 
down  and  passed  his  hand  again  and  again 
across  his  brow,  then  started  up  once  more 


124  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

and  paced  the  floor,  with  his  head  in  a  whirl, 
He  had  scarcely  slept  all  night  owing  to  the 
same  thoughts. 

"I  must  come  to  a  decision!  There  are 
only  two  days  left!  And  if  I  sneak  out  of  it 
now,  it  will  not  exactly  be  a  heroic  deed,  and 
ever  after  I  shall  have  to  keep  quiet  when 
anything  is  said  about  justice  and  truth." 

He  looked  at  his  watch.  There  was  a  train 
in  a  couple  of  hours.  But  just  as  he  was 
about  to  get  out  his  bag  and  pack  it,  he  was 
once  more  seized  with  uncertainty.  Suppose 
his  father  would  not  be  persuaded?  "What 
should  I  do  then!  I  ought  to  have  some  plan 
of  what  I  am  going  to  do,  if  I  am  going  to 
interfere." 

He  seemed  to  see  his  father,  and  Norby 
Farm  in  the  summer,  waving  cornfields,  and 
the  calm  waters  of  Lake  Mjosen.  Go  and 
give  evidence?  Break  with  them  all?  Bring 
unhappiness  upon  them?  Never  more  have  a 
home  at  Norby?  He  sank  upon  a  chair  and 
sighed  heavily.  "No,  I  can't  do  it!" 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  parsonage  was  not  far  from  Norby 
Farm.  The  day  before  the  inquiry  Pastor  Bor- 
ring  began  to  wonder  whether  he  could  not 
bring  about  some  reasonable  agreement  in  this 
wicked  and  foolish  case  between  two  honest 
men. 

No  one  knew  that  Pastor  Borring  had  a 
secret  trouble  that  caused  him  continual  suf- 
fering. He  believed  neither  in  the  atonement 
nor  in  the  utility  of  the  sacraments;  and  yet 
as  pastor  he  had  to  say  and  do  what  was  pure 
and  true.  He  felt  that  he  was  too  old  to  re- 
sign his  living  and  start  again  in  life;  and 
with  his  present  good  stipend,  he  could  help 
on  his  numerous  children  in  the  world. 

But  this  faithlessness  to  his  convictions  had 
made  a  very  good  man  of  Pastor  Borring. 
He  knew  himself  sufficiently  well  to  judge 
others  leniently.  He  took  no  interest  in  gos- 
sip, for  he  thought  that  the  evil  that  could  be 
said  about  others  was  not  nearly  so  bad  as 

125 


126  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

that  which  could  be  said  about  himself.  Many 
came  to  him  with  their  troubles,  and  it  was 
easy  for  him  to  comfort  them,  because  their 
misfortunes  seemed  to  him  small  in  compari- 
son with  his  own.  People  thought  him  a  good 
pastor  and  a  noble  man;  and  perhaps  he  was 
both  of  these,  because  he  was  always  burning 
with  a  secret  despair. 

"I'm  going  a  drive  to-day,"  he  said  to  his 
wife. 

"Is  any  one  ill?"  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Where?" 

"Out  at  the  brickfields,"  said  the  pastor. 

Enveloped  in  his  grey  ulster,  with  a  red 
scarf  round  his  waist,  he  seated  himself  in  the 
sledge,  and  the  little  bay  fjord  horse  set  off 
in  its  usual  trot. 

It  was  a  sad  sight  that  met  him  out  at  the1 
red  factory  buildings,  where  there  was  no 
smoke  ascending  from  the  chimneys,  and  the 
shop  stood  with  locked  doors  and  shuttered 
windows.  "Poor  man!"  thought  the  pastor. 
"If  he  is  guilty,  all  this  trouble  is  too  great  for 
him  to  bear;  and  if  he  is  innocent,  this  will  be 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  127 

the  worst  evidence  against  him.  He  must  be 
encouraged." 

Wangen  still  lived  in  his  pretty  house,  and 
after  taking  off  his  coat  in  the  cheerful  hall, 
the  pastor  went  into  the  drawing-room.  A 
servant  was  occupied  in  dusting,  and  she  went 
at  once  to  tell  Wangen. 

Tick!  tick!  went  a  little  clock  in  its  polished 
case  on  the  wall.  There  was  a  sound  of  chil- 
dren crying  in  the  adjoining  room,  and  Wan- 
gen's  voice  hushing  them. 

The  door  opened  and  Wangen  entered.  He 
had  grown  very  thin,  his  eyes  wore  an  expres- 
sion of  suffering,  and  he  was  almost  unrecog- 
nizable. 

"Our  little  baby  died  last  night,"  he  said, 
when  he  had  seated  himself.  "It  was  un- 
doubtedly because  of  his  mother's  milk.  She 
has  had  too  much  to  bear  lately." 

"He  means  by  that  that  Norby  is  to  blame 
for  this  too,"  thought  the  pastor.  "It  is  high 
time  I  talked  to  him.  Dear  Wangen,"  he 
said  aloud,  "will  you  do  an  old  pastor  a  fa- 
vour? Will  you  get  up  on  my  sledge,  and 
drive  over  with  me  to  Norby?" 


128  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

Wangen  started  up  involuntarily,  and  put 
his  hand  to  his  head.  "To  Norby?"  he  said  in 
astonishment. 

"Yes.  We'll  try  and  put  an  end  to  this 
matter,  dear  Wangen." 

Wangen  smiled  and  his  eyes  began  to  glow. 
"He's  afraid  at  last,  is  he?"  he  said.  "And  so 
he  sends  you." 

The  pastor  shook  his  head.  "I've  come  on 
my  own  account,  my  friend,"  he  said.  "Let 
me  tell  you  that  it  is  easiest  for  the  innocent 
one  to  forgive.  Show  this  now.  Come  with 
me  to  Norby,  and  there  I'll  say:  'Knut,  I 
want  to  talk  to  you  a  little,  and  Wangen  is 
going  to  hear  what  I  say/  Then  we  three'll 
go  into  a  room  by  ourselves,  and  I  shall  say? 
'You  two,  who  want  to  send  one  another  to 
prison,  you're  both  guilty.  Shake  hands! 
Sign  a  declaration  that  henceforward  neither 
of  you  will  ever  mention  the  matter  again'; 
and  when  we  go  into  the  other  room,  I  shall 
say  to  the  others:  "There  won't  be  any  in- 
quiry; for  Wangen  and  Norby  think  that  this 
has  nothing  to  do  with  either  the  authorities 
or  any  one  else;  they  have  arranged  the  mat- 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  129 

ter  between  themselves/  In  a  couple  of  days 
people  will  have  found  something  else  to  talk 
about,  and  in  a  month's  time  the  whole  thing 
will  be  forgotten.  Now  put  on  your  things, 
Wangen,  and  come  with  me!" 

But  instead  of  this,  Wangen  sat  down  and 
smiled  a  little  uncertainly. 

"And  who  is  to  pay  the  two  thousand 
krones  that  Norby  is  responsible  for?"  he 
asked. 

The  pastor  was  a  little  perplexed.  He  had 
not  thought  of  that,  and  involuntarily  he 
stroked  his  nose  with  his  thumb  and  fore- 
finger. 

"We-ell — but,  dear  me!  Peace  between 
people  is  worth  more  than  two  thousand,  espe- 
cially when  it's  a  case  of  going  to  prison.  I'll 
say  to  Norby — let  me  see — I'll  say:  'If  you 
haven't  given  security  for  Wangen  before, 
then  do  it  now!  Pay  this!  You'll  never  miss 
it!'  I'm  sure  my  friend  Norby  will  be  rea- 
sonable." 

But  Wangen  started  up  again. 

"No,"  he  cried,  "not  for  the  world!  Shall  I 
beg  him  for  the  help  that  he's  given  once,  but 


130  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

backed  out  of?  Good  heavens,  no!  No! 
Do  you  really  think,  Pastor  Borring,  that 
when  first  Norby  has  ruined  me,  then  dishon- 
oured me,  then  driven  my  wife  to  the  verge  of 
madness,  I  am  going  to  Norby  to  ask  him  to 
be  friends?  No!  That  would  be  a  little  too 
much!" 

"I  don't  know  who  is  guilty,"  said  the  pas- 
tor sadly.  "Let  the  guilty  one  settle  the  mat- 
ter with  ,God." 

Wangen  laughed  scornfully.  "That  sounds 
very  nice,  Hr.  Borring,  but  what  have  we  got 
law  and  justice  for?  You  should  feel  what  it 
is  like  to  be  in  my  place.  I  spent  my  wife's 
and  my  own  fortune  in  creating  an  industry 
here,  and  it  succeeded  as  long  as  it  wasn't  in 
Norby's  way.  He  has  traduced  me  until  I 
was  refused  credit;  he  has  managed  to  pre- 
vent my  compounding;  and  it  is  not  even 
enough  for  him  to  know  that  I  am  destitute! 
No,  I'm  not  to  keep  my  good  name  either; 
I'm  to  go  to  prison  too.  And  you  want  me 
to  forget  all  this?  If  Norby  were  to  come 
here  himself  and  ask  me — but  it's  too  late  for 
that  too  now." 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  131 

The  pastor  sat  for  a  while  with  his  lips  com- 
pressed. 

"Tell  me,  Wangen!  Have  you  never  caused 
suffering  to  any  one  else  in  this  world?"  he 
said. 

The  question  startled  Wangen,  and  he 
again  forced  a  laugh. 

"All  I  know  is,"  he  said,  after  a  short 
pause,  "that  I'm  innocent  in  this  instance. 
And  Norby  has  now  tortured  and  worried  me 
so  long  that  he  shall  go  to  the  prison  that  he 
intended  for  me.  If  he  is  so  rich,  too,  he  shall 
be  made  to  pay.  I  won't  take  a  small  com- 
pensation." 

"Ah!  it's  all  very  well  suffering  when  you 
get  paid  for  it,"  thought  the  pastor.  "That 
man  is  the  guilty  one."  Aloud  he  said:  "God 
help  us  that  we  find  it  so  difficult  to  forgive 
one  another!  And  yet  we  expect  Him  to  be 
always  ready  to  forgive  us." 

"Do  you  think  we  shouldn't  have  courts  of 
law  to  help  us  to  obtain  justice,  Hr.  Bor- 
ring?" 

"Judicial  proceedings  of  that  kind,  dear 
Wangen,  are  a  bad  means  of  bringing  right  to 


132  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

light.  They  may  perhaps  get  hold  of  the 
fruit,  but  never  of  the  root.  Just  you  notice 
when  the  witnesses  stand  forward.  They  lie 
without  knowing  it ;  they  raise  a  dust,  and  the 
court  passes  judgment  from  the  dust.  It  is 
human;  but  God  deliver  us  both  from  the  sen- 
tence and  its  consequences!" 

All  this  time  Wangen  was  in  the  belief  that 
the  pastor  had  been  sent  by  Norby,  and  that 
he  wanted  to  entice  him  with  fair  words.  He 
had  therefore  become  impatient  and  wished 
to  put  an  end  to  the  interview.  He  rose 
with  an  impetuous  movement,  and  began  to 
pace  the  floor. 

"The  only  thing  I'm  afraid  of,"  he  said 
demonstratively — for  he  was  quite  willing  that 
Norby  should  hear  this — "is  that  he'll  get  off 
too  easily.  After  thinking  it  over,  I  don't 
think  he  ought  to  come  out  of  prison  any 
more." 

The  pastor  felt  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow, 
and  rose  quickly.  "If  he  is  in  the  right," 
he  thought,  "thenrHeaven  help  the  right  that 
has  fallen  into  such  hands!  Can  being  in 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  133 

the  right  make  a  man  so  coarse  and  bad?  Not 
He  is  guilty!'' 

He  sighed  and  took  his  leave  despondently. 
Wangen  went  to  the  door  with  him,  and  on 
the  steps  remarked: 

"This  is  much  more  than  a  question  be- 
tween Norby  and  me.  It  most  concerns  the 
working  men,  who  are  left  without  bread, 
It  is  a  social  question." 

"Indeed?"  said  the  pastor,  seating  himself 
in  his  sledge  and  gathering  up  the  reins, 
thinking  as  he  did  so:  "Of  course!  If  a  man 
only  has  toothache  nowadays,  he  tries  to  make 
it  into  a  social  question.  People  are  too  cow- 
ardly to  bear  anything  alone." 

"Yes,"  continued  Wangen,  "I  don't  stand 
so  much  alone  now,  thank  goodness,  as  Norby 
thinks." 

"Then  he's  not  so  much  to  be  pitied  after 
all,"  thought  the  pastor,  adding  aloud:  "Yes, 
I  hear  you've  started  a  new  working  men's 
union,  and  that  you've  often  given  lectures 
there  lately." 

"Yes,"  answered  Wangen;  "a  man  must 
be  blind  if  he  doesn't  see  that  Norby  has  a 


134  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

number  of  rich  men  behind  him,  and  that  the 
end  and  aim  of  this  matter  is  to  do  away  with 
the  eight-hour  working  day  in  this  part  of 
the  country." 

The  pastor  smiled  and  said  good-bye,  and 
cracked  his  whip  over  the  bay. 

"That  was  a  very  unsuccessful  visit," 
thought  the  pastor,  and  sighed.  "People  are 
only  amenable  to  reason  when  they  are  dying; 
and  even  then  it  is  in  order  to  gain  some- 
thing." 

Wangen  had  returned  to  the  drawing-room, 
and  stood  at  the  window  watching  the  pastor 
as  he  drove  away.  He  could  not  at  once  re- 
gain his  mental  equilibrium,  for,  in  spite  of 
everything,  the  old  man  had  left  a  good  im- 
pression upon  him,  although  at  the  same  time 
this  was  something  he  was  unwilling  to  ac- 
knowledge; for  it  might  disturb  the  calcula- 
tion respecting  man's  wickedness,  to  which 
Wangen  daily  added  fresh  amounts,  thereby 
strengthening  his  righteous  anger. 

"How  strange  it  is,"  he  thought  with  some 
agitation,  "that  the  priests  always  play  into 
the  hands  of  the  rich!"  The  thought  had  half 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  135 

unconsciously  been  admitted  in  order  to  get 
rid  of  the  good  impression.  "And  they  try 
with  texts  and  solemn  faces  to  make  the  poor 
man  give  up  his  rights.  I  dare  say!" 

As  he  stood  and  followed  the  pastor's 
sledge  with  his  eyes,  he  gradually  let  loose  a 
whole  series  of  such  reflections,  and  little  by 
little  felt  the  irritation  that  made  him  believe 
in  what  he  said;  and  little  by  little  the  old 
pastor  driving  along  the  road  seemed  to  him 
to  be  a  theological  messenger  in  the  service  of 
wealth,  like  so  many  other  priests  in  this 
world. 

"Has  there  ever  been  an  affair  too  rotten 
for  some  priest  or  other  to  lend  himself,  his 
God,  and  his  church  in  defence  of  it?  Look 
at  war,  for  instance!  And  the  doctrine  of 
eternal  punishment!  A  nice  thing  indeed!" 

Wangen  had  nothing  to  do  all  day  now,  so 
he  was  always  busy  with  this  affair  with 
Norby,  and  it  grew  and  grew  in  his  imagina- 
tion. At  the  same  time  he  constantly  had  to 
witness  fresh  sad  consequences  of  his  failure. 
If  he  only  met  the  old  tailor  who  had  en- 
trusted his  small  savings  to  him,  he  involun- 


136  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

tarily  went  another  way;  for  he  thought  the 
tailor  stared  at  him  with  wild  eyes. 

From  his  early  youth  Henry  Wangen  had 
been  intelligent  and  warmly  interested  in 
questions  and  ideas;  but  these  ideas  had  al- 
ways been  aimed  at  what  others  should  do, 
and  how  others  should  be  helped.  When 
finally  an  extraordinary  responsibility  had 
brought  him  to  the  last  extremity,  he  was  in 
despair  at  having  to  stand  alone;  he  felt  the 
duty  of  expiating  and  suffering  to  be  a  bur- 
den beyond  the  power  of  man  to  bear,  and  he 
involuntarily  tried  even  now  to  turn  the  mat- 
ter into  a  social  question.  He  had  at  first, 
therefore,  half  unconsciously  wished  and 
hoped  that  this  forgery  matter  was  only  the 
expression  of  a  conspiracy  against  his  business. 
Now  he  felt  quite  sure,  and  every  time  he 
could  suspect  some  one  fresh  of  being  the  rich 
men's  accomplice,  he  became  more  comfort- 
ably certain. 

When  he  really  thought  about  it,  he  had 
long  seen  signs  of  something  brewing  among 
his  connections  outside  as  well  as  inside  the 
district.  Rich  men  were  rich  men,  whether 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  137 

they  called  themselves  farmers  or  merchants. 
They  were  all  afraid  of  him.  because  of  his 
eight-hour  working  day.  And  they  not  only 
wanted  to  force  him  into  bankruptcy  in  order 
to  be  able  to  say  "That's  how  things  go  with 
such  a  short  working  day."  No,  they  wanted 
revenge.  They  wanted  to  send  him  to  prison. 
They  wanted  to  dishonour  him  so  greatly  that 
he  would  henceforth  be  harmless.  He  under- 
stood it  now.  Like  many  others,  he  had  fallen 
a  victim  to  the  demoniacal  brutality  that 
wealth  and  capital  breed. 

For  this  very  reason  the  work-people  began 
to  be  unspeakably  dear  to  him.  He  no  longer 
feared  them  in  consequence  of  having  de- 
ceived them ;  they  had  become  his  brothers  and 
fellow-sufferers;  it  was  in  fact  for  their  sakes 
that  he  was  now  being  persecuted. 

In  this  way  the  recollection  of  his  regrets 
and  resolutions  in  the  dark  railway  carriage 
became  less  and  less  frequent,  and  in  their 
place  rose  anger  against  the  social  powers, 
whose  the  blame  really  was.  Nor  was  the 
oppressive  sense  of  duty  to  expiate  and  be- 
come better  himself  any  longer  any  concern 


138  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

of  his ;  in  this  matter,  too,  he  could  leave  him- 
self out  of  consideration  and  look  at  so- 
ciety. 

He  turned  from  the  window,  and  began  to 
pace  the  floor.  "So  he  was  willing  to  let  him- 
self be  used  too,  was  he?"  he  thought,  and  the 
more  he  thought  about  it,  the  more  excited  he 
became.  "Fancy!  that  lazy  priest,  who  per- 
haps lies  in  bed  until  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, grudges  the  working  men  a  little  ease!" 

He  bit  his  lip.  By  Jove,  the  working  men 
ought  to  hear  this !  It  would  be  a  good  thing 
if  they  could  hear  it  all  over  the  country. 
'Priests  were  priests  all  the  world  over.  He 
would  have  it  in  the  newspapers  in  some  form 
or  other. 

And  Norby?  He  might  send  out  as  many 
priests  as  ever  he  liked.  He  shouJd  go  to 
prison  anyhow.  Wait  till  the  day  after  to- 
morrow ! 


CHAPTER  III 

EVERY  evening  lately,  Ingeborg  Norby  had 
sat  and  read  the  Bible  to  the  pensioners  in 
the  little  house.  The  pensioners  were  four  in 
number,  the  dairymaid  and  the  two  farm-ser- 
vants, who  were  all  between  seventy  and 
eighty  years  of  age,  and  had  been  in  service 
at  the  farm  for  more  than  half  a  century;  and 
the  blind  tenant  farmer,  whom  Norby  had 
taken  in  so  that  he  should  not  go  to  the  work- 
house. 

In  the  little  room  lay  the  bedridden  dairy- 
maid; and  in  the  larger  room  sat  the  two 
white-haired  farm-labourers  and  speculated 
on  various  matters.  They  smoked,  moved  from 
one  chair  to  another,  and  talked  together 
chiefly  about  their  various  illnesses.  The  blind 
man  for  the  most  part  kept  his  bed. 

From  thp  large  house  nothing  was  seen  of 
these  four  persons.  Even  Norby  seldom  went 
to  see  them;  but  he  kept  them  supplied  with 

139 


140  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

clothes  and  tobacco,  although  they  all  had 
money  in  the  bank. 

This  evening  the  birch-wood  was  crackling 
in  the  stove,  and  the  lamp  shed  its  light  upon 
the  long  table;  and  Ingeborg  sat  at  the  door 
between  the  two  rooms  and  read  so  that  she 
could  be  heard  on  both  sides. 

When  she  had  finished  reading,  she  re- 
peated the  Lord's  Prayer  and  sang  a  hymn, 
in  which  the  two  old  men  upon  the  bench  tried 
to  join.  When  this  was  over  and  she  was 
about  to  go,  one  of  the  men  said: 

"How  is  the  case  going  on?" 

"There  will  be  an  inquiry  the  day  after  to- 
morrow," said  Ingeborg. 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  blind  man  from  his 
bed,  while  he  scratched  himself. 

"Hasn't  that  there  Wangen  confessed 
yet?"  one  of  the  farm-labourers  murmured, 
shaking  his  head  sympathetically. 

"No!"  sighed  Ingeborg,  adding:  "May 
God  turn  his  heart!" 

"If  he'd  only  been  wise  enough  to  confess 
at  once,  his  punishment  would  have  been 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  141 

lighter,"  said  the  blind  man,  still  scratching 
himself. 

"He  may  have  confessed  to  God/'  said 
Ingeborg.  "But  the  Bible  says  that  if  any 
one  wants  to  do  God's  will,  he  must  go  and 
be  reconciled  to  his  brother.  I'm  sure  if  Wan- 
gen  had  come  and  asked  father  to  forgive  him, 
father  would  have  forgiven  him." 

"Yes,  God  bless  him!"  said  the  dairymaid 
from  the  little  room. 

Ingeborg  said  good-night  and  left  the  house. 

The  two  old  men  upon  the  bench  began  to 
undress,  with  many  sighs  over  their  rheuma- 
tism and  pains  in  their  limbs.  One  of  them, 
after  taking  off  his  trousers,  sat  down  upon 
the  edge  of  his  bed  and  lighted  his  pipe  before 
drawing  off  his  stockings.  The  other  was  also 
in  his  drawers,  and  now  crept  cautiously  in  his 
clumsy  slippers  into  the  dairymaid's  little 
room,  and  seated  himself  upon  the  edge  of  her 
bed. 

"Have  you  got  enough  on  you  at  night?"  he 
asked,  as  he  struck  a  match  upon  his  nether 
garments,  and  lighted  his  short  pipe  with  a 
trembling  hand. 


142  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"Oh  yesl"  said  the  dairymaid  in  a  sleepy 
voice. 

These  two  had  been  engaged,  and  had 
broken  it  off,  and  been  engaged  again,  over 
and  over  again  for  pretty  well  a  lifetime.  For 
a  couple  of  years  they  were  not  on  friendly 
terms,  and  were  each  engaged  to  some  one 
else ;  but  then  they  became  reconciled  and  en- 
gaged again,  until  things  again  went  wrong, 
and  so  on.  Since  they  had  become  pensioners, 
however,  they  had  made  peace  and  were  good 
friends. 

"Because  you're  welcome  to  one  of  my 
sheep-skins!"  he  said,  looking  at  the  bowl  of 
his  pipe  and  trying  to  make  it  draw. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  such  nonsense!  And 
you  would  lie  and  shiver  perhaps?"  she  said. 
"No;  if  I'm  cold,  I've  only  got  to  speak  to  the 
mistress." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  old  man,  rising  and 
tucking  her  carefully  up. 

He  came  in  every  evening  before  he  went  to 
bed  to  ask  her  if  she  wanted  anything.  It  was 
a  kind  of  good-night.  Of  late  he  had  induced 
her  to  smoke,  for  then  he  could  always  do  her 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  143 

some  little  service,  such  as  to  clean  her  pipe 
and  cut  up  the  tobacco  for  her.  But  now, 
without  saying  good-night,  he  slouched  away 
and  went  to  bed. 

"YouVe  forgotten  to  put  out  the  lamp," 
said  the  blind  man.  He  could  not  see  it,  but 
felt  its  light  upon  him. 

After  the  lamp  was  put  out,  the  three  old 
men  lay  and  yawned  audibly  for  some  time, 
until  there  came  from  the  little  room  a  yawn  so 
loud  that  the  three  men  could  hear  it.  This 
was  their  good-night  to  one  another. 

"It's  coming  on  to  blow  and  there'll  be  a 
storm  to-night,"  said  the  blind  man,  drawing 
the  skin  coverlet  over  him. 

"Then  they'll  have  to  have  the  snowplough 
out  again  to-morrow,"  said  one  of  the  others, 
after  a  short  pause.  Then  they  yawned  a  little 
more,  and  silence  fell  upon  the  little  house. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  day  before  the  inquiry,  Norby  was  in  his 
office  all  day,  arranging  his  papers,  making 
notes,  and  preparing  his  answers  to  the  ques- 
tions he  would  probably  be  asked  the  next  day. 
He  no  longer  felt  that  it  was  he  who  accused 
Wangen,  but  on  the  contrary  he  thought  it 
was  he  who  had  to  make  the  defence. 

The  grey  light  of  a  snowy  day  fell  upon  the 
table  and  his  papers,  and  upon  the  old  man  as 
he  stood  with  his  spectacles  far  down  upon  his 
nose,  and  passed  his  defences  in  review.  He 
was  tired  of  going  about  collecting  counter- 
evidence  and  taking  declarations;  but  now  he 
was  well  armed,  and  was  only  impatient  to 
begin. 

A  slight  smile  came  over  the  old  man's  face 
as  he  looked  at  a  paper  that  he  held  carefully 
as  if  it  were  something  precious.  It  was  pre- 
cious too.  It  was  a  declaration  from  Jorgen 
Haarstad's  bedridden  widow;  and  it  would 
completely  confound  the  evidence  that  Soren 

144 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  145 

Kvikne  was  going  to  give.  This  was  amusing, 
because  Herlufsen  would  be  disappointed. 
The  old  man  was  looking  forward  with  intense 
pleasure  to  the  moment  when  he  should  read 
the  declaration  aloud  in  court,  perhaps  with 
Herlufsen  setting  there  and  listening  to  it. 
There  was  no  doubt  that  poor  Soren  had 
simply  been  bribed  to  give  evidence  as  to  his 
having  heard  this  remark  of  Jorgen  Haar- 
stad's.  That  was  the  kind  of  means  these 
people  used;  it  was  really  beyond  a  joke. 

The  old  man  began  to  pace  the  floor,  sighing 
now  and  again.  He  was  pale;  of  late  he  had 
been  unable  to  think  of  anything  but  of  how 
he  could  be  even  with  his  enemies.  He  had  as 
it  were  passed  by  the  actual  heart  of  the  matter 
in  a  railway  train;  and  it  now  lay  so  far  be- 
hind in  mist,  that  there  were  far  more  impor- 
tant things  to  be  thought  of.  It  was  clear,  too, 
that  it  was  not  justice  that  his  enemies  were 
so  anxious  for.  No;  what  they  were  striving 
to  do  was  to  injure  him  and  knock  him  down. 

At  one  time  that  scene  at  the  hotel  had  stood 
very  distinctly  before  him;  but  Wangen's  as- 
sertion that  it  took  place  in  the  Grand  cafe 


146  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

had  taken  the  sting  out  of  the  recollection. 
"Oh,"  thought  Norby.  "So  it  was  at  the 
Grand?  Very  well!  Perhaps  he's  right.  But 
then  it's  all  the  more  certain  that  it's  a  lie.  I've 
never  in  my  life  signed  any  document  at  the 
Grand.  If  any  paper  was  signed  there  with 
my  name,  then  it's  a  forgery!"  Although 
these  thoughts  did  not  always  bring  satisfac- 
tion, it  was  nevertheless  a  relief  to  let  them, 
out.  And  there  was  so  much  besides  to  indi- 
cate that  Wangen's  hands  were  not  clean; 
there  were  thousands  of  other  things  to  think 
about  and  be  incensed  over,  and  the  old  man 
had  now  so  often  expressed  himself  regarding 
the  affair,  that  to  remember  his  assertions  was 
the  same  as  remembering  the  reality. 

He  was  still  standing  rummaging  among  his 
papers,  when  the  door  opened  and  Marit  en- 
tered. 

"Didn't  I  hear  you  talking  at  the  tele- 
phone?" asked  the  old  man,  looking  over  his 
spectacles. 

"Einar's  coming  home  to-day,"  she  said. 
"He  has  asked  to  be  met  at  the  station  with  a 
sledge." 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  147 

The  old  man  put  his  hands  behind  his  back 
and  his  legs  astride,  and  looked  at  her  over  his 
spectacles. 

"What  do  you  say?"  he  exclaimed.  "Einar 
coming  home  now?  He  must  have  plenty  of 
time,  that  gentleman!  He  must  be  thinking  of 
becoming  a  perpetual  student!" 

"You  are  so  hot-tempered,"  said  Marit. 
"You're  generally  glad  to  have  the  boy  come 
home." 

He  did  not  answer,  but  again  began  to  rum- 
mage among  his  papers.  Was  the  boy  going 
to  interfere  in  earnest  in  this  affair?  He  felt 
as  if  an  enemy  had  suddenly  stabbed  him  in 
the  back.  Einar?  He'd  better  try,  that's  all. 

"If  only  he  doesn't  first  go  and  talk  to  his 
mother  about  it,"  thought  the  old  man.  "But 
that  wouldn't  be  like  him." 

He  hung  about,  however,  on  the  watch  to 
be  the  first  to  meet  his  son  at  the  house. 

When  Einar  alighted  at  the  station,  he 
found  Ingeborg  waiting  with  horse  and  sledge. 

The  mocking  voice  had  at  last  forced  Einar's 
courage  up;  and  when  he  finally  determined 
to  go  home,  he  felt  as  if  he  had  burnt  his  ships 


148  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

behind  him.  He  would  put  this  matter  right, 
and  first  of  all  he  would  try  to  bring  his  father 
to  reason ;  but  all  the  time  he  felt  as  if  he  were 
going  up  for  an  examination. 

When  he  saw  the  old  brown  horse,  the  famil- 
iar double  sledge  and  fur  rug,  a  warm  feeling 
seemed  to  come  to  him  from  home;  and  as  he 
sat  beside  his  sister,  driving  homewards  amid 
the  jingle  of  the  sledge-bells,  he  was  impercep- 
tibly filled  with  the  childlike  happiness  of 
going  home.  But  these  were  the  feelings  that 
Einar  had  had  to  overcome  before  he  came  to 
his  determination;  and  he  was  therefore  on 
guard  against  them,  for  on  this  occasion  they 
were  a  danger. 

Ingeborg  had  met  him  at  Christmas  with  the 
same  horse,  and  this  brought  a  host  of  bright, 
pleasant  recollections  into  his  mind.  He 
thought  of  the  ball  they  had  given,  remem- 
bered the  doctor's  daughter,  who  looked  so 
pretty  that  evening,  saw  her  eyes.  His  father 
and  mother  had  done  everything  to  make  them 
enjoy  themselves.  And  now?  Now  he  had  a 
feeling  that  he  was  coming  home  as  a  traitor 
in  disguise. 


The  Power  of  a  Uie  149 

"Why  have  you  come  so  suddenly  ?"  asked 
Ingeborg. 

"To  be  here  at  the  inquiry,"  he  answered. 
"I  want  to  see  how  it  will  turn  out.'* 

"Oh,  you  can  be  quite  sure  that  father's  all 
right,"  she  said  with  warm  conviction. 

Einar  found  himself  wishing  it  might  be  so, 
and  had  to  say  hastily  to  himself:  "Take  care 
that  your  good  feelings  don't  weaken  your 
purpose." 

"Poor  father!"  said  Ingeborg.  "You  can't 
think  what  stories  people  are  telling  about  him 
now.  That  Wangen  must  be  a  dreadful 
man!" 

Her  eyes  shone  with  confidence  in  her 
father,  and  Einar  felt  the  infection. 

"How  are  they  all  at  home?"  he  asked,  in 
order  to  change  the  subject. 

"Little  Knut  has  not  been  very  well,"  an- 
swered Ingeborg,  "but  he  is  better  now."  At 
these  words,  Einar  seemed  to  see  the  little 
fatherless  boy  looking  at  him  and  asking: 
"Are  you  really  going  to  be  unkind  to  grand- 
father?" 

A  little  later  Ingeborg  told  him  that  a  young 


150  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

horse  had  been  found  dead  in  its  stable  the 
morning  before.  Einar  felt  for  his  father's 
loss,  and  seemed  to  be  standing  at  his  side  and 
looking  at  the  stable  where  the  horses  were 
stamping.  And  he  thought  how  the  beautiful 
creatures  would  turn  their  heads  in  their  stalls 
and  whinny  their  recognition  of  him,  as  if  they 
too  would  say:  "Are  you  really  going  to?" 
For  he  kept  in  mind  all  the  time  that  he  would 
have  to  go  through  it  all. 

As  they  turned  up  the  avenue  and  ap- 
proached the  house,  he  asked  himself  again: 
"Am.  I  really  going  to?"  It  began  to  seem 
dreadful. 

When  they  turned  into  the  yard,  their  father 
and  mother  stood  upon  the  steps,  as  they  al- 
ways did  when  he  came  home. 

"How  do  you  do,  father?  How  do  you  do, 
mother?"  he  cried;  but  the  words  sounded  like 
treachery  to-day. 

"Come  into  my  office;  I  want  to  tell  you 
something,"  said  his  father,  when  Einar  had 
taken  off  his  coat  in  the  passage. 

"But  you  must  come  in  soon  and  have  some- 
thing to  eat,"  said  his  mother.  "It's  all  ready." 


The  Power  of  a  U,e  151 

When  they  entered  the  office,  Norby  turned 
round  at  the  writing-table,  and  said,  with  his 
hands  behind  his  back  and  his  legs  astride: 

"I  only  want  to  tell  you  that  your  mother 
knows  nothing  about  your  letter." 

Einar  inclined  his  head,  and  the  old  man 
continued: 

"And  if  that's  what  youVe  come  home  about, 
you'll  have  to  keep  to  me." 

"Very  well,  father." 

"So  that  is  what  you've  come  for?" 

"Yes,  father,"  said  Einar  in  a  low  voice. 

The  old  man  compressed  his  lips,  but  he 
moved  towards  the  door,  saying:  "Well,  let's 
first  go  in  and  have  dinner."  Einar  followed 
in  a  shamefaced  way,  as  if  he  were  a  naughty 
boy.  He  was  old  enough  to  see  his  father's 
faults,  but  he  had  a  very  great  respect  for  him. 

"Then  mother  knows  nothing,"  he  thought. 
"And  if  father  is  so  afraid  of  its  coining  to  her 
ears "  He  dared  not  think  it  out. 

The  old  man  was  quiet,  almost  cheerful, 
during  dinner ;  but  Einar  noticed  how  pale  he 
was.  His  mother  seemed  to  have  grown 
greyer  lately,  and  he  felt  an  involuntary  de- 


152  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

sire  to  spare  her;  she  had  such  complete  faith 
in  their  cause. 

He  felt  more  and  more  drawn  into  the  home 
atmosphere.  He  asked  for  news  from  the  dis-> 
trict,  and  had  to  tell  his  news  from  town.  He 
had  his  old  place  at  table,  and  was  the  son 
just  returned  home,  to  whom  every  one  showed 
the  most  friendly  face.  Little  Knut  came 
creeping  under  the  table  several  times,  and  up 
between  his  knees.  Everything  combined  to 
draw  him  into  something  beautiful  and  soft, 
where  he  felt  he  must  surrender;  but  all  the 
time  a  good  instinct  seemed  to  be  shaking  him. 
"Take  care!"  it  said,  "take  care!  Don't  let 
your  good  feelings  play  you  a  trick!" 

"Now,  little  Knut,"  said  the  little  boy's 
mother,  "you  mustn't  worry  uncle." 

It  sometimes  happens  that  we  suddenly  re- 
ceive a  new  impression  of  a  person,  as  if  he  had 
in  a  moment  changed  his  identity.  Up  to  the 
present  Einar  had  looked  upon  his  father  as 
the  man  who  was  unjustly  accusing  Wangen, 
and  whom  he  was  ready  to  oppose ;  but  before 
he  was  aware  of  it,  this  same  father  was  he 
who  had  been  laid  up  last  winter  with  typhoid 


The  Power  of  a  Lae  153 

fever,  and  was  perhaps  not  quite  recovered 
from  it  yet. 

On  the  way  home,  Ingeborg  had  told  him 
of  all  the  false  accusations  that  Wangen  was 
spreading  about  their  father;  and  now  Einar 
too  felt  his  anger  rising,  and  at  the  same  time 
a  desire  to  take  his  father's  part.  As  the  at- 
mosphere of  home  gradually  brought  out  the 
feeling  of  being  son  of  the  house,  he  felt  an 
increasing  shame  of  his  intention  to  betra^  his 
father,  his  own  family.  Here  they  were  all 
sitting  round  him  without  a  suspicion  of  the 
true  object  of  his  journey.  He  felt  like  a 
tyrant  who  was  going  to  make  use  of  his  power 
of  bringing,  with  a  single  word,  misfortune 
upon  them  all. 

After  dinner  he  felt  inclined  to  sit  down  and 
chat  with  his  mother  and  little  Knut;  but  his 
father,  calling  to  him  to  come,  went  towards 
the  door. 

"God  help  me!"  thought  Einar.  "Now  it's 
coming."  His  purpose  was  already  so  weak- 
ened that  he  heartily  wished  himself  back  in 
town.  Little  Knut  wanted  to  go  with  him,  but 


154  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

Einar  loosened  the  clasp  of  his  hands  about  his 
knees,  saying:  "I'll  soon  be  back,  Knut." 

In  the  office  the  old  man  sat  down  in  his 
customary  place  at  the  writing-table;  and 
Einar  could  not  help  admiring  the  tranquillity 
with  which  his  father  slowly  and  deliberately 
filled  his  pipe. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  said  the  old  man, 
carefully  lighting  his  long  pipe,  and  then  calm- 
ly lying  down  upon  the  leather  sofa.  Einar 
sat  down  a  little  way  off. 

"Are  you  in  want  of  money?"  asked  the  old 
man,  raising  his  eyelids  just  far  enough  to  be 
able  to  look  at  his  son. 

Einar  felt  slightly  irritated  at  this  question 
being  put  just  now,  and  answered  quickly: 
"No,  thank  you!" 

The  old  man  himself  was  a  little  embar- 
rassed ;  for  he  had  a  secret  respect  for  this  son, 
who  knew  so  much,  and  in  a  way  was  of  a  finer 
metal  than  himself.  He  would  treat  him  as 
well  as  he  possibly  could. 

"What  was  that  nonsense  you  wrote  in  your 
lost  letter?"  he  said  at  last,  once  more  rais- 
ing his  eyes. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  155 

Einar  rose  involuntarily.  A  voice  within 
him  seemed  to  say:  "Be  brave!"  He  began 
a  little  hesitatingly: 

"I  didn't  mean  any  harm,  father;  and  I  still 
seem  to  remember  that  day  you  came  up  to 
my  room  and  told  me  about  the  guarantee/' 

The  old  man  laughed  a  little,  and  pressed 
down  the  tobacco  in  the  bowl  of  his  pipe  with 
his  forefinger.  "My  dear  boy,"  he  said  at  last, 
putting  on  a  merry  look,  "you've  dreamt  that/' 

"No,  father,"  said  Einar,  in  rather  an  in- 
jured tone:  "I'm  not  a  child.  It's  my  firm 
conviction  that  you're  mistaken  in  this  matter. 
It's  quite  possible  you've  forgotten  it.  And 
I  want  to  ask  you  to  take  back  your  accusa- 
tion, for  I  suppose  there's  still  time,  and  of 
course  I  know  that  you  wouldn't  do  anything 
that  was  wrong." 

"Are  you  taking  leave  of  your  senses, 
man?"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  taking  his  pipe 
out  of  his  mouth  and  looking  at  his  son  in  as- 
tonishment, although  he  laughed  again. 

Einar  bowed  slightly,  and  said,  "I  mean  no 
harm,  father/' 

"Yes,  you  mean  no  harm,"  said  the  old  man, 


156  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

trying  again  to  laugh,  "but  do  you  quite  know 
what  it  is  that  you're  accusing  me  of?"  And 
the  astonishment  with  which  he  now  looked  at 
his  son  was  more  serious. 

Einar  put  his  hands  behind  his  back  and 
leant  against  the  wall.  He  had  become  more 
courageous,  and  all  the  time  he  heard  the  good 
voice  saying:  "Take  care!" 

"Can't  you  remember  that  day,  father,  when 
you  came  up  to  my  room  and " 

His  father  interrupted  him  with  another 
laugh. 

"No,  Einar;  you  can't  expect  me  to  remem- 
ber what  you  dream." 

For  a  moment  Einar  felt  perplexed.  He 
had  expected  to  be  loaded  with  abuse ;  but  this 
kindness  and  this  cool  assurance  began  to  dis- 
arm him.  He  passed  his  hand  across  his  fore- 
head, and  looked  before  him  a  little  helplessly. 
Had  he  dreamt  it?  Was  it  really  nonsense  he 
was  talking? 

And  though  for  his  part  the  old  man 
laughed,  he  thought  to  himself:  "I  wonder 
whether  some  one  or  other  has  been  taking  the 
boy  in!  It  would  be  just  like  them!" 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  157 

But  now  Einar  raised  his  head. 

"No,  father,"  he  said,  "I'm  not  making  a 
mistake ;  for  you  haven't  put  your  name  to  any 
other  papers  for  Wangen,  have  you?" 

"Ha !  ha !  ha!    No,  indeed,  thank  goodness !" 

"Well,  father,  then  you  must  take  back  your 
accusation,  for  Wangen  is  innocent!" 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Take  back  my  accusation?"  The  old  man 
sat  up,  and  passed  his  hand  over  the  crown  of 
his  head,  looking  straight  in  front  of  him,  and 
putting  bits  of  his  beard  into  his  mouth.  At 
length  he  said,  with  stony  gaiety:  "Oh  no, 
Einar!  It's  you  who  are  talking  nonsense. 
So  I  propose  that  you  go  back  to  town  again, 
and  set  to  work  upon  things  that  you  under- 
stand better  than  you  do  this  matter."  Saying 
which  he  rose,  and  took  a  step  towards  the 
table.  Einar  had  noticed  an  alteration  in  his 
father's  voice,  which  indicated  storm. 

"Well?"  said  the  old  man,  turning  round. 
"You  stand  there  like  a  parson  in  the  pulpit!" 

"Once  more,  father,  take  back  your  accusa- 
tion! Do,  father!" 


158  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"You're  quite  sure  your  father's  a  scoun- 
drel?" 

"It's  only  that  you  don't  remember,  father!" 

"Now  seriously,  Einar,  what  have  you  come 
home  for?"  His  father  looked  actually  curi- 
ous, and  Einar  felt  angry  at  not  being  taken 
seriously.  So  he  said  as  forcibly  as  he  could: 

"I've  come  home,  father,  to  prevent  you 
doing  something  you  will  repent  of." 

"Don't  you  think,  Einar,"  his  voice  sounded 
a  little  pained,  "that  I've  got  enough  with  half 
the  parish  down  upon  me?  There  are  numbers 
of  them  only  trying  to  get  me  locked  up.  And 
now  you  come  too!  Aren't  you  ashamed?" 

Einar's  head  sank.  "Father — but "  His 

knees  began  to  give  way  under  him;  but  un- 
wittingly his  father  came  to  his  aid. 

"Who  has  persuaded  you  to  do  this,  Einar?" 

"Who?"  Einar  looked  up  suddenly,  bit  his 
lip  and  took  a  step  forward.  His  voice 
trembled  with  anger  as  he  said:  "What  do 
you  mean  by  that,  father?" 

The  old  man  could  not  help  laughing  at  the 
lad's  imperiousness.  "I  believe  you  mean  to 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  159 

go  to  the  inquiry  and  give  evidence  against 
your  father!"  he  said,  and  laughed  again. 

"If  you  take  back  your  accusation,  father, 
I  shan't  have  to,"  Would  his  father  take  him 
seriously  now? 

A  deep  flush  overspread  the  old  man's  face. 
He  attempted  to  laugh,  to  gnaw  his  beard,  to 
pass  his  hand  over  the  crown  of  his  head,  to  sit 
down;  but  he  did  none  of  these  things.  He 
rushed  at  Einar,  took  him  by  the  collar,  and 
said  laughing,  but  at  the  same  time  grinding 
his  teeth:  "Go!  Go!  And  you  shall  go  back 
to  town  this  very  day,  or  else — Heaven  help 

you!" 

He  drew  back  a  couple  of  steps,  as  if  afraid 
of  being  tempted  to  strike  him.  "Ha,  ha!  In- 
deed!" And  he  suddenly  began  to  measure 
him  from  top  to  toe.  He  had  only  just  be- 
come aware  that  the  young  man  who  stood 
there  was  no  boy  whom  he  could  laugh  at  or 
thrash.  It  was  his  own  son,  who  had  suddenly 
grown  up,  and  now  stood  up  as  his  opponent 
— he  too! 

"Will  you  go?" 

"Take  back  your  accusation,  father." 


160  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

This  was  too  much.  The  old  man  seized  a 
chair,  lifted  it  up  and  cried:  "Be  off  with 
you!  Go,  do  you  hear?  Will  you  leave  the 
room  at  once?  Be  off,  do  you  hear?  Go, 
Einar!" 

"Yes,  I'm  going!"  said  Einar,  raising  his 
head.  He  was  so  angry  that  he  would  have 
liked  to  take  the  chair  away  from  his  father 
and  show  him  that  he  was  too  old  now  to  let 
himself  be  struck.  "But  let  me  tell  you/'  he 
continued,  "that  you'll  have  to  leave  off  treat- 
ing me  in  that  way.  Good-bye!"  And  so 
saying,  he  slowly  left  the  room. 

As  evening  fell,  Norby  drove  out.  After* 
supper,  Einar  felt  a  longing  to  confide  every- 
thing to  his  mother,  but  he  did  not  dare.  What 
should  he  do  in  the  morning?  Should  he  flee 
from  the  affair?  It  seemed  doubly  hard  now 
that  he  had  staked  so  much  upon  it.  He  went 
early  to  bed,  for  he  was  afraid  of  the  influences 
that  hovered  about  the  rooms  downstairs  and 
the  people  there ;  they  all  seemed  to  tempt  him 
to  surrender. 

In  his  little  room,  the  birch-wood  crackled  in 
the  stove  and  diffused  the  familiar  odour  of 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  161 

which  he  was  so  fond.  A  metal  candlestick 
shone  in  the  light  from  the  stove,  and  in  it 
stood  a  candle  of  his  mother's  own  moulding. 
He  had  fled  from  the  good  impressions  in  the 
downstairs  rooms,  and  had  run  straight  into 
the  new  ones  here,  that  quite  folded  him  in 
their  embrace.  The  sheets  on  the  bed,  the  clean 
curtains  at  the  window,  the  recollections  of  all 
the  nights  he  had  spent  here  in  his  holidays — 
everything  asked:  "Are  you  really  going  to?" 

"I  shall  never  be  able  to  do  it,"  he  thought, 
as  he  lay  in  his  comfortable  bed,  wrapped  up 
in  his  mother's  sheets  and  blankets.  It  was 
very  different  from  what  he  was  accustomed  to 
in  the  boarding-house  in  town.  "But  suppose 
sentence  is  passed  on  Wangen,  and  I  might 
have  saved  him !  God  help  me !  I  should  never 
have  another  happy  day." 

During  the  night  Ingeborg  was  awakened 
by  Einar's  coming  into  her  room  with  a  candle 
in  his  hand. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked,  rubbing  her 
eyes. 

"Hush!"  he  said,  for  there  was  only  a  thin 


162  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

match-boarding  between  her  room  and  the  one 
in  which  her  parents  slept. 

"There's  something  I  must  tell  you,  Inge- 
borg."  And  he  seated  himself  upon  the  edge 
of  her  bed,  with  the  light  in  his  hand. 
At  first  it  dazzled  her,  but  she  soon  grew  ac- 
customed to  it.  These  two  had  always  been 
one  another's  confidants,  for  Ingeborg  was  the 
nearest  to  her  brother  in  age. 

He  spoke  almost  in  a  whisper,  and  she  lis- 
tened to  him  with  wide-open,  frightened  eyes, 
and  her  breath  coming  quicker  and  quicker. 
She  made  excuses,  she  seized  his  hand  convul- 
sively, and  said:  "Don't  say  any  more,  Einar! 
You  must  be  mad!"  But  she  took  his  hand 
again.  She  wanted  to  hear  all  his  reasons,  and 
he  told  her  them,  because  he  needed  to  have 
some  one  on  his  side.  At  length  she  closed  her 
eyes  as  if  she  did  not  dare  to  look  up;  she 
breathed  still  more  heavily ;  something  seemed 
to  have  given  way  within  her. 

When  at  last  he  left  her,  she  lay  still  with 
her  eyes  closed.  She  began  to  be  afraid  be- 
cause it  was  so  dismally  dark,  and  it  was  such 
a  long  time  to  morning. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  163 

j 

She  tossed  about  in  her  bed  and  could  not 
sleep,  owing  to  an  indefinable  terror.  A  crimi- 
nal had  found  his  way  into  the  house,  he  was 
sleeping  under  the  same  roof ;  and  this  criminal 

was — he  was  her No,  no,  it  was  not  true ! 

It  could  not  be  true! 

"O  God,  help  me!  Help  me!"  she  sobbed 
out  in  passionate  ecstasy.  "Help  me!  Give 
me  a  sign  that  it  is  not  true!"  But  she  sud- 
denly noticed  that  it  seemed  as  if  God  were 
gone.  It  was  the  first  time  this  had  happened 
since  her  conversion.  What  was  it?  Why  did 
she  not  go  on  praying,  instead  of  lying,  her 
eyes  gazing  terror-stricken  into  the  darkness? 
Was  there  no  God?  Had  it  all  been  a  delu- 
sion? She  had  prayed  that  this  affair  might 
turn  out  well  for  her  father.  She  had  thanked 
God  for  his  innocence,  and  felt  a  comfort  in 
thanking  Him.  She  had  also  prayed  for 
Wangen;  she  had  won  this  victory  over  her- 
self and  had  felt  a  pleasure  in  it.  And  was  it 
all  a  delusion?  Had  God  made  fun  of  her? 
Or  did  He  not  exist?  Was  that  a  delusion 
too?  Was  this  comfort  to  her  soul  in  being  in 


164  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

fellowship  with  Him,  this  pleasure  in  doing 
good,  also  delusion,  delusion,  delusion? 

She  tossed  about  in  her  bed,  weeping  con- 
vulsively. If  her  father  were  guilty,  then 
there  was  no  God.  It  was  all  a  delusion,  a 
delusion! 

"O  God,  give  me  a  sign  that  Thou  art!  Give 
me  peace!  Is  my  father  a  bad  man,  who  will 
give  false  evidence  to-morrow?  My  father? 
O  God,  give  me  a  sign!  Help  me,  if  there  be 
a  God!  For  Christ's  sake,  give  me  a  sign!" 

At  last  she  knelt  in  her  bed,  stretching  out 
her  clasped  hands. 

Towards  morning  Einar  was  greatly  aston- 
ished to  see  Ingeborg  come  creeping  into  his 
room.  She  took  his  face  between  her  hands, 
and  said  in  a  voice  that  trembled  with  joy: 

"I  must  tell  you  at  once.  You've  made  a 
mistake,  and  thank  God  for  it!"  She  involun- 
tarily laid  her  hand  upon  her  breast. 

He  lighted  the  candle  and  looked  question- 
ingly  at  her.  Her  eyes  were  positively  shining 
with  joy. 

"Yes,  Einar,  God  has  given  me  a  sign. 
YouVe  made  a  mistake,  and  I  was  sure  you 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  165 

had.  And  now  you  must  go  and  ask  father's 
pardon."  She  stroked  his  forehead  with  her 
hand,  and  disappeared  noiselessly. 

"Poor  Ingeborg!"  thought  Einar.  This 
young  girl,  whose  hair  sorrow  had  turned  grey 
— this  nun,  who  lived  always  with  her  thoughts 
on  the  other  side  of  the  grave — would  it  not 
crush  her,  too,  if  to-morrow  he ? 

"Remember,  Einar,  whatever  you  do,  don't 
take  any  family  considerations!" 


CHAPTER  V 

WHEN  Norby  drove  off  the  next  morning,  his 
wife  sat  by  his  side.  He  always  wanted  her 
with  him  when  anything  serious  was  going  on. 

It  was  a  grey  winter's  day,  and  the  snow 
was  falling  fast.  As  they  turned  out  of  the 
yard,  the  old  man's  thought  was:  "I  wonder 
how  things  will  be  when  we  drive  in  here 
again." 

At  last  the  day  was  come  of  which  he  had 
once  stood  in  such  fear,  but  which  had  gone  on 
inexorably  approaching.  He  was  not  afraid 
now;  he  was  only  impatient  to  begin,  like  the 
excited  gambler,  who  only  thinks  of  winning. 
A  slight  suspicion  that  some  enemy  or  other 
had  had  something  to  do  with  Einar's  behav- 
iour the  day  before  only  increased  his  inward 
excitement.  They  didn't  know  what  shame 
was,  those  people!  They  bought  witnesses 
like  that  Soren  Kvikne.  They  tried  to  make 
the  son  rise  against  his  father.  But  just  let 
them  wait! 

166 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  167 

The  court-house  lay  near  the  sound,  which 
is  the  centre  of  the  parish,  and  near  which  the 
magistrates  lived  upon  their  farms.  Along  the 
narrow  lines  that  ran  across  the  stretches  of 
snow  and  represented  roads,  people  could  be 
seen  like  black  dots  moving  in  the  direction  of 
the  court-house.  The  body  of  the  court  would 
be  full  enough  to-day. 

The  first  person  Norby  saw  when  he  got 
there  was  Herlufsen,  in  his  great  wolf-skin 
coat;  and  the  first  thing  he  did  when  he  got 
out  of  the  sledge  was  to  go  up  and  shake  hands 
with  him.  Herlufsen  also  advanced  to  meet 
him,  drawn  like  steel  to  magnet.  The  hand- 
shake was  warm,  and  the  two  smiling  faces 
shone  with  pleasure  at  meeting  one  another. 
Both  were  thinking:  "I  wouldn't  be  in  your 
shoes  to-day  for  Something!"  So  Herlufsen 
invited  Norby  to  take  a  cup  of  coffee  with  him 
at  the  hotel,  but  Norby  protested  that  on  this 
occasion  he  would  stand  treat. 

The  doors  were  almost  too  narrow  to  admit 
the  big,  fur-clad  men.  At  the  coffee-table 
they  were  soon  warmly  united  in  speaking  evil 
of  one  and  another  whom  they  both  hated. 


168  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

The  great  case  they  only  ventured  to  mention 
very  carefully,  for  fear  that  the  one  should  see 
through  the  other. 

Outside  there  was  a  bitter  east  wind  blow- 
ing, which  swept  the  smoke  from  the  neigh- 
bouring factories  through  the  driving  snow. 
People  walked  about  beating  their  hands  to- 
gether to  warm  them;  and  some  went  into  the 
baker's  shop  and  bought  bread  as  an  excuse  to 
warm  themselves.  At  length  the  magistrate 
arrived,  the  court  was  opened,  and  the  people 
streamed  in,  stamping  the  snow  from  their 
boots  as  they  went  up  the  stairs. 

When  Marit  Norby  entered,  she  saw  the 
pastor's  wife  and  Fru  Thora  of  Lidarende 
among  the  audience.  They  both  gave  her  a 
friendly  recognition,  and  made  room  for  her 
between  them. 

When  Wangen  stood  at  the  bar  and  pro- 
tested his  innocence,  the  pastor's  wife  turned 
towards  Marit  Norby  with  a  sigh  and  a  look, 
which  said:  "Poor  man,  how  foolish  he  is!" 

Thora  of  Lidarende  already  felt  as  if  she 
must  burst  into  tears.  Wangen  was  so  pale 
and  emaciated;  his  throat  was  so  thin  inside 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  169 

his  collar,  and  the  back  of  his  head  seemed  so 
big.  His.back  was  actually  bent.  Poor  man ! 
If  only  he  would  confess ! 

It  never  occurred  to  Fru  Thora  that  her 
opinion  of  Wangen's  guilt  could  be  wrong, 
since  she  sat  there  and  pitied  him.  From  the 
very  first  this  opinion  had  fostered  a  number 
of  beautiful,  charitable  thoughts  in  her  mind; 
and  she  therefore  never  considered  how  she 
had  arrived  at  it.  It  was  a  view  that  had  made 
her  willing  to  make  some  sacrifice — for  in- 
stance, to  adopt  one  of  Wangen's  children; 
and  a  conviction  for  which  one  sacrifices  some- 
thing, not  only  becomes  a  certainty,  but  grows 
so  dear  that  it  actually  acquires  a  moral  value. 

"Poor  Wangen!"  she  thought.  "Who  can 
say  whether  all  this  is  not  really  the  outcome 
of  an  unfortunate  inheritance  from  his  father? 
But  the  human  tribunal  does  not  take  that 
into  consideration;  it  is  merciless";  and  at  that 
thought  she  seemed  to  see  before  her  a  com- 
munity with  tribunals  that  were  different. 

Knut  Norby  was  called  as  the  first  witness 
in  the  case.  The  moment  had  come  for  which 
he  had  previously  felt  such  terror.  He  had 


170  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

to  go  in  and  say  that  he  had  not  put  his  name 
to  any  paper  for  Wangen. 

When  he  entered  the  corridor  he  felt  the 
excitement  of  the  card-player  who  has  good 
cards  in  his  hand,  and  is  impatient  to  play 
them.  His  one  thought  was  that  he  must  not 
for  the  world  forget  anything.  As  his  hand 
touched  the  handle  of  the  door,  a  far-off  voice 
seemed  to  say:  "Turn  back!  There  is  still 
time!"  But  the  voice  was  far  too  distant. 
"Did  you  really  defraud  that  widow?"  said 
another  voice ;  and  this  filled  him  with  a  desire 
to  knock  Wangen  down.  As  he  entered  the 
court,  he  raised  his  shoulders  a  little,  as  he  was 
accustomed  to  do  when  he  knew  that  a  num- 
ber of  people  were  looking  at  him.  The  first 
thing  he  saw  was  Wangen  in  the  dock;  and 
when  their  eyes  met  in  a  flash,  the  old  man 
felt  a  dull  anger  rising  within  him.  He  re- 
membered all  the  reports  that  Wangen  had 
spread  about  him.  "You  wait!"  he  thought. 

On  his  way  to  the  witness-box  he  saw  both 
the  pastor's  wife  and  Fru  Thora  nodding  to 
him,  and  it  gave  him  encouragement.  When 
he  saw  that  it  was  not  the  magistrate  himself, 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  171 

but  his  head  clerk,  who  was  conducting  the  in- 
quiry, he  was  offended.  The  magistrate 
might  send  his  clerk  to  unimportant  cases ;  but 
it  was  Knut  Norby  that  this  concerned.  When 
the  young  man  with  the  eyeglasses  and  the 
downy  moustache  adjured  him  to  speak  the 
truth,  the  old  man  felt  a  desire  to  laugh. 
Fancy  that  whipper-snapper  acting  magis- 
trate !  He  had  heard  that  this  very  gentleman 
had  been  as  drunk  as  a  lord  at  Lawyer  Bas- 
ting's last  Saturday  evening.  And  there  sat 
Basting,  too,  that  pauper,  trying  to  look  like 
a  sage!  He  had  come  already  to  help  Wan- 
gen,  the  fool!  Yes,  this  was  a  court  to  in- 
spire respect! 

The  questioning  began.  Norby  found  it  easy 
to  answer,  just  because  Basting  was  on  the 
watch.  He  had  been  on  the  watch,  too,  when 
he  had  tried  to  agitate  for  Norby' s  removal 
from  the  bank  board,  and  to  get  appointed 
himself.  The  poor  wretch's  goods  were  dis- 
trained for  the  poor-rate,  and  he  was  thank- 
ful to  get  a  bill  for  two  krones  to  collect.  And 
that  man  was  on  the  watch  against  Knut 


172  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

Norby?  Supposing  it  were  he  who  had  got 
hold  of  Einar! 

"Wangen  asserts  that  he  distinctly  remem- 
bers the  place  where  the  signing  took  place," 
said  the  clerk. 

"Well,  perhaps  I  might  be  allowed  to  know 
where  it  was,  too,"  said  Norby  innocently. 

The  clerk  turned  towards  Wangen. 
"Wasn't  it  at  the  Grand  cafe?" 

Wangen  rose,  and  his  eyes  shone  as  brightly 
now  when  he  said  it  took  place  at  the  Grand 
as  when  he  said  he  was  innocent. 

To  Norby  this  gave  a  welcome  touch  of  comi- 
cality, and  he  answered  with  deep  conviction: 
"That  document  was  not  signed  by  me." 

At  these  words  he  heard  a  little  sarcastic 
laugh  from  Wangen,  which  made  him  boil  with 
rage.  "I'll  give  him  something  to  laugh  at," 
he  thought.  "Wait  a  little!" 

Then  something  happened,  which  came  quite 
unexpectedly  upon  Norby.  The  clerk  took 
out  a  paper  and  handed  it  to  him.  "Here  is 
the  document,"  he  said,  "and  there  is  your 
name.  Will  you  see  whether  it  resembles  your 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  173 

signature?  You  might  possibly  have  forgot- 
ten the  matter." 

For  a  moment  Norby  saw  his  name  as  he 
himself  had  written  it.  It  had  the  effect  of  a 
ghost.  He  would  not  look  at  it.  He  looked 
at  Lawyer  Basting,  who  was  looking  askance 
at  him,  and  this  made  him  quite  angry,  and  he 
threw  the  document  upon  the  table,  saying: 
"I  don't  need  to  look  at  that  thing.  I  know 
what  I've  done." 

At  this  Basting  asked  permission  to  put  a 
question,  and  rising,  came  nearer  to  the  wit- 
ness-box. "Has  Wangen  never  asked  you  to 
be  surety  for  him?"  he  asked. 

Norby  looked  contemptuously  at  the  greasy- 
looking,  bald-headed  old  man.  He  was  about 
to  laugh  or  give  a  scornful  answer;  but  a  voice 
whispered:  "Take  care  not  to  let  the  cat  out 
of  the  bag!"  and  he  said  with  a  smile: 

"A  great  many  people  have  asked  me  to  be 
surety  for  them;  but  I  can't  remember  them 
all."  Then,  irritated  at  again  hearing  Wan- 
gen's  sarcastic  laugh,  he  added  casually:  "He 
must  have  asked  me,  however;  for  latterly  he 


174  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

was  running  about  and  asking  every  blessed 
soul  he  knew." 

This  time  he  heard  Marit  laugh. 

When  his  examination  was  over,  he  remem- 
bered the  declaration  from  Haarstad's  widow, 
and  asked  to  be  recalled  when  Soren  Kvikne 
had  given  evidence.  When  he  came  out  of 
the  room  he  stood  on  the  stairs  for  a  little 
j  while  to  cool  himself  before  putting  on  his  cap. 
There  was  a  voice  far  away  crying:  "You 
have  lied!"  But  it  was  too  far  away,  and 
powerful  voices  rose  against  it.  It  was  true, 
was  it,  that  he  had  defrauded  that  widow? 

He  still  seemed  to  hear  Wangen's  laughter, 
and  he  thought  once  more:  "Wait  a  little, 
and  I'll  give  you  something  to  laugh  at!"  He 
still  had  his  best  cards  in  his  hand. 

"It's  too  bad,  all  the  same,"  he  thought,  as 
he  sauntered  across  the  yard,  "that  one  should 
be  exposed  to  the  attacks  of  such  riff-raff. 
You  have  both  to  circumvent  them  and  to 
wriggle  away  from  them;  but  I'll  be  d—  — d 
if  that  man  doesn't  have  to  leave  the  parish 
now!" 

Suddenly  the  old  man  stood  still.     A  young 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  175 

man  in  overcoat  and  fur  cap  was  coming 
towards  him.  Was  he  mistaken?  No;  it  was 
Einar. 

Norby  was  excited  already;  and  now,  when 
Einar  came,  too,  perhaps  to  interfere,  he  felt 
inclined  to  give  the  boy  a  thrashing. 

They  both  stopped  within  a  few  steps  of 
one  another.  Einar  was  very  pale. 

"Is  that  you?"  said  the  old  man,  attempting 
to  laugh.  He  knew  that  people  could  see 
them  from  the  window. 

"Yes,  father!"  said  Einar,  as  he  dug  his  stick 
into  a  snowdrift,  "and  it  isn't  very  pleasant  to 
be  myself  just  now." 

At  this  the  old  man  laughed  scornfully,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "No,  of  course  not," 
he  said.  "Is  a  hundred  and  fifty  krones  a 
month  too  little?  You  have  a  family  in 
Christiania,  perhaps?" 

Einar  pressed  his  lips  together,  and  his  voice 
shook  as  he  said,  looking  calmly  at  his  father : 
"I  wanted  to  follow  the  dictates  of  my  con- 
science, and  do  what  was  right." 

"Yes,  of  course!"  said  the  old  man,  coming 


176  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

a  step  nearer,  and  laughing  again.  "Does 
anyone  forbid  you  to  do  so?" 

"I  shall  have  to  go  in  and  save  the  innocent 
man,"  said  Einar,  "no  matter  what  it  costs 
me."  But  he  involuntarily  retreated  a  step, 
and  gazed  at  his  father  in  fear.  The  old  man 
still  tried  to  smile,  because  people  could  see 
them  from  the  windows;  but  he  suddenly 
turned  pale. 

"Yes,  I  thought  so,"  he  said,  breathing 
heavily;  "but  who  has  put  you  up  to  this?" 

At  this  Einar  flushed,  and  drew  a  step 
nearer.  "Father!"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was 
indignant;  "y°u  must  tell  me  what  you  mean 
by  that." 

The  old  man,  however,  resented  the  authori- 
tative tone,  and  began  to  gesticulate,  while  he 
shouted:  "Go  in  and  give  evidence  then,  con- 
found you!  Don't  stand  there  and  torture 
your  father!  Go  at  once,  do  you  hear?" 

He  caught  his  breath  and  gesticulated  with 
his  arms,  but  no  more  words  came;  and  he 
turned  abruptly  and  tramped  away,  while 
Einar  began  mechanically  to  walk  towards  the 
court-house.  Suddenly  he  heard  his  name 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  177 

called:  "Einar!"  He  turned.  "Yes,  father?" 
His  father  was  standing  looking  after  him,  but 
made  a  sudden  movement  with  his  hand. 
"Nothing!"  he  said,  and  went  on.  Pride  had 
conquered. 

Einar  stood  upon  the  steps  of  the  court- 
house. There  were  a  few  steps  to  be  made. 
"The  fact  is  that  father  himself  is  the  best 
proof  that  Wangen  is  innocent,"  he  thought. 
"But  can  I?  Am  I  cowardly  or  courageous? 
All  I  have  to  do  is  to  tell  the  truth  and  save 
an  innocent  man.  Is  that  so  dreadful?  Per- 
haps it's  the  only  time  in  my  life  that  a  brave 
action  will  be  required  of  me.  I  must  be  a 
man!"  And  he  went  on  with  slower  steps  into 
the  passage,  and  knocked  at  the  door. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHEN  Norby  left  Einar,  he  did  not  know 
where  he  went.  He  met  some  acquaintances, 
and  had  to  stop  and  shake  hands  with  them 
and  chat,  although  he  felt  inclined  to  throw 
himself  upon  the  ground  and  weep. 

"There's  no  lack  of  snow  this  winter,"  he 
said,  laughing  almost  convulsively  at  the  group 
gathered  about  him,  and  at  the  same  time 
thinking:  "Now  he  is  in  there  giving  evi- 
dence." 

Every  one  without  exception  spoke  to  him 
with  the  usual  deference,  and  gave  him  sym- 
pathetic glances ;  and  this  gave  him  fresh  cour- 
age. "He's  welcome  to  give  evidence,"  he 
thought.  "But  we  shall  see!" 

At  last  he  was  alone,  and  stood  at  the  win- 
dow in  a  little  general  store.  Above  him  on 
the  hill  stood  the  court-house,  and  he  could  see 
at  the  window  the  profile  of  a  head  with  a  hand 
raised  to  the  chin.  "Now  they're  enjoying  the 
scandal,"  he  thought.  "They  think  they've 

178 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  179 

caught  me  when  they've  caught  my  boy;  but 
wait  a  bit." 

It  seemed  to  freeze  something  within  him. 
This  son,  upon  whom  he  had  spent  so  many 
thousand  krones,  but  who  suddenly  attacked 
his  father  in  this  way,  was  not  Norby's  son 
any  longer.  There  was  only  a  smart,  as  if 
something  had  been  cut  away,  and  it  made  him 
set  his  teeth  hard.  \ 

"They  are  mistaken.  If  I'm  not  man 
enough  to  overthrow  his  assertions,  I'm  not 
what  I  thought  I  was;  for  now  it's  a  matter 
of  life  and  death  in  any  case."  He  could  not 
help  laughing,  but  it  was  a  cold,  hard  laugh; 
for  the  thought  that  he  was  going  to  disgrace 
himself  and  his  son  by  having  to  refute  his 
evidence  in  court  made  him  quite  fierce.  "As 
sure  as  I  live,  they  shall  regret  that  they  took 
the  boy  from  me." 

When  Einar  entered  the  court,  he  saw  at 
a  glance  that  the  witness-box  was  empty.  The 
clerk  was  dictating  something  to  be  entered 
in  the  minutes.  The  witnesses's  place  was 
waiting  for  him  who  should  tell  the  truth.  It 
seemed  to  beckon  to  him. 


180  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

When  he  shut  the  door  behind  him,  the  lit- 
tle noise  made  him  start.  The  door  was  shut 
now  between  him  and  his  father  forever.  "I 
can  never  go  home  again,"  he  thought;  and  at 
the  same  moment  he  caught  sight  of  his  mother 
among  the  audience.  She  smiled  at  him.  She 
was  flushed  and  perspiring  with  the  heat.  "If 
you  only  knew  that  I  can  never  come  home 
again!"  thought  Einar,  as  she  made  room  for 
him  beside  her;  and  the  fact  that  she  sat  there 
and  made  room  for  him,  without  suspecting 
why  he  had  come,  agitated  him  greatly. 
"When  she  hears  my  evidence,"  he  thought, 
"she'll  faint." 

It  must  be  done  now,  however,  now  or 
never.  He  felt  that  if  he  did  not  go  straight 
at  it,  his  courage  would  ebb,  and  he  would  col- 
lapse. It  had  cost  him  so  much  to  make  up  his 
mind;  to  turn  round  now  would  be  an  insult 
to  himself.  He  looked  across  once  more  at 
his  mother,  as  if  to  say:  "You  cannot  want 
me  to  tell  anything  but  the  truth.  I  tried  to 
save  father  while  there  was  time,  but  it  was  im- 
possible." 

He  was  about  to  address  himself  to  the 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  181 

clerk,  when  Thora  of  Lidarende  and  the  pas- 
tor's wife  gave  him  a  friendly  nod,  and  he  had 
to  nod  back  again;  and  his  mother  beckoned 
to  him,  while  the  two  other  ladies  helped  to 
make  room  for  him.  Should  he  go  there  for 
a  moment?  He  very  much  wanted  to  sit  down. 
He  had  been  wandering  about  for  hours  out 
in  the  cold,  and  the  court  was  hot  and  badly 
ventilated,  and  he  felt  giddy  and  the  blood 
rushed  to  his  head.  His  mother  beckoned 
again  and  smiled;  and  before  he  quite  knew 
what  he  was  about,  he  was  sitting  beside  her. 
The  two  ladies  with  her  gave  his  hand  a  warm 
pressure  as  they  shook  hands  with  him. 

The  next  moment  his  mother  was  called  as 
a  witness.  The  clerk  looked  at  her  and  said: 
"I  thought  you  were  sitting  among  the  au- 
dience?" 

"Yes,  I  was,"  said  Fru  Norby. 

"But  that  is  not  allowed,"  said  the  clerk. 
"You  must  be  good  enough  to  remain  outside 
when  you  are  a  witness." 

Einar  had  a  strange  feeling  on  seeing  his 
mother  in  the  witness-box.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  standing  there  she  was  in  some  danger 


182  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

or  other;  and  when  the  clerk  administered 
this  rebuke,  he  felt  an  involuntary  agitation. 
All  his  filial  instincts  were  aroused  and  took 
up  their  stand  beside  her.  He  was  no  longer 
capable  of  thought;  he  only  felt.  After  stren- 
uously working  himself  up  to  a  high  pitch  of 
clearness  of  judgment  and  truthful  endeav- 
our, he  now  suddenly  lost  his  balance  and  fell 
into  a  strange  world  of  indistinct  but  warm 
impulses.  Far  off  a  star  beckoned  to  him; 
it  was  for  him  to  go  up  and  give  evidence. 
But  it  seemed  to  go  farther  and  farther  away, 
there  stood  his  mother,  looking  all  at  once  so 
thin  and  helpless.  The  clerk  had  offended 
her.  And  was  Einar  now  going  up  to  con- 
tradict her  before  all  these  people?  He  might 
just  as  well  go  up  and  knock  her  down.  He 
grew  more  and  more  afraid  that  something 
would  happen  to  her  out  there.  Nothing  must 
happen  to  her! 

When  his  mother  had  finished,  she  went 
out:  and  Einar  had  to  follow  her  to  see  if 
anything  was  the  matter,  and  in  doing  so  for- 
got his  overcoat,  which  he  had  taken  off  and 
placed  beside  him  on  the  bench. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  183 

When  he  caught  her  up  near  the  baker's,  a 
sudden  resolution  came  to  him  to  leave  her, 
for  he  could  not  bear  this  any  longer.  He 
was  not  equal  to  the  task  of  concocting  any 
explanation;  he  only  said  good-bye  and  hur- 
ried away. 

Sharp  hail-showers  had  taken  the  place  of 
the  snowstorm,  and  deluged  him  with  rolling 
ice-pearls.  The  road  meandered  along  the 
fjord  and  on  to  the  station;  there  was  an  hour 
before  the  train  went  and  he  had  plenty  of 
time,  but  he  hurried  like  a  man  who  is  running 
away. 

At  last  he  began  to  walk  more  slowly. 
There  was  a  voice  that  whispered  to  him: 
"But  this  inquiry  is  only  an  investigation  of 
the  matter.  It  will  be  time  enough  if  you 
give  evidence  before  the  jury."  But  he  stood 
still,  as  if  the  thought  were  something  that  he 
could  knock  down.  trConfound  it!"  he 
thought.  "This  is  just  as  cowardly.  I  imag- 
ine I  can  go  to  the  trial  by  jury?  I?  The 
coward!" 

He  had  wandered  backwards  and  forwards 
in  this  way  before  to-day,  now  determined 


184  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

to  go  away,  now  to  go  straight  to  the  inquiry 
and  give  evidence;  and  when  he  finally  ap- 
proached the  court-house  with  firm  steps,  he 
had  felt  glad  and  proud  that  what  was  truest 
and  bravest  in  him  had  conquered. 

And  now?  He  could  not  go  home  any 
more.  Even  if  his  father  could  forgive  him, 
he  would  despise  this  sorry  hero;  and  as  son 
at  Norby  Farm,  he  had  betrayed  the  house 
and  all  his  family  just  as  much  as  if  he  had 
not  been  too  cowardly  to  put  his  resolve  into 
action. 

He  stopped  and  looked  back.  There,  on 
the  white  snowy  surface  by  the  sound,  stood 
the  court-house,  enveloped  in  driving  show- 
ers. In  Einar's  eyes,  that  building  was  now 
only  a  den  of  injustice,  in  which  false  accu- 
sations were  made  and  false  evidence  given, 
and  where  an  innocent  man  was  condemned 
and  had  his  life  ruined.  And  he  who  could 
save  him?  He  fled!  He  was  the  greatest 
coward  of  them  all. 

Einar  suddenly  felt  it  was  quite  impossible 
for  him  to  go  back  to  town  and  be  the  old 
Einar  Norby.  He  could  never  look  his 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  185 

friends  in  the  face.  He  would  have  to  live 
with  shame  in  his  heart,  and  always  bow  his 
head  and  keep  silence  when  mention  was 
made  of  honesty  and  truth  in  the  world.  Could 
he  ever  have  another  happy  day  if  Wangen 
were  condemned? 

No,  he  could  not  walk  any  farther  towards 
the  station ;  his  feet  refused  to  carry  him.  At 
last  he  sat  down  upon  a  stone  by  the  wayside. 
He  had  not  yet  noticed  that  he  had  forgotten 
his  overcoat. 

An  hour  later  he  was  still  sitting  there, 
with  his  head  in  his  hands.  He  was  roused 
by  the  sound  of  sledge-bells.  Two  men  drove 
past  in  a  double  sledge,  laughing  and  talk- 
ing about  the  inquiry.  Something  must  have 
happened.  But  Einar  sat  on.  Should  he 
turn  back?  he  thought;  perhaps  there  was 
still  time.  And  then  he  suddenly  burst  into  a 
laugh.  That  this  desire  to  do  something  great 
could  still  raise  its  head  made  him  laugh  scorn- 
fully and  bitterly;  and  as  he  laughed  he 
coughed. 

When  Soren  Kvikne  at  last  came  into  the 
witness-box,  he  put  himself  into  an  important 


186  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

attitude,  and  thrust  his  hands  deep  into  his 
pockets ;  for  he  knew  now  that  the  whole  thing 
depended  upon  him.  He  declared  that  while 
he  worked  at  Haarstad's,  Haarstad  had  once 
told  him  that  he  had  seen  Norby  put  his  name 
to  a  paper  for  Wangen,  and  that  he  himself 
had  signed  as  witness. 

There  was  a  great  sensation  in  the  court. 
This  was  an  acquittal  for  Wangen. 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?"  asked  the  clerk, 
and  looked  at  the  farm-labourer. 

"I  remember  it  as  if  it  had  been  yesterday/' 
said  Soren.  "We  were  painting  a  carriole, 
what's  more,  when  he  told  me." 

The  clerk  now  recollected  that  Norby^ 
wished  to  give  evidence  after  this  man,  and 
as  he  scented  something  interesting,  he  deter- 
mined to  confront  the  two  witnesses,, 

Norby  had  freshened  up  since  Marit  had 
told  him  of  Einar's  departure;  and  now  his 
great  moment  had  come  at  last. 

When  he  stood  in  the  witness-box  with 
Soren  Kvikne,  he  first  looked  round.  Yes, 
Herlufsen  was  in  court.  He  then  took  out 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  187 

his  document,  and  asked  the  clerk  if  he  might 
read  it  aloud. 

"Certainly,"  said  the  clerk,  a  little  uncer- 
tainly, involuntarily  extending  his  hand  for 
the  paper. 

Norby  read:  "I,  Jorgen  Haarstad's  widow, 
hereby  declare  upon  my  honour  that  Soren 
Kvikne  left  our  service  six  months  before  the 
date  of  the  signature  of  Wangen's  document. 
As  he  then  went  into  service  for  some  time  in 
another  parish,  it  is  impossible  that  my  hus- 
band can  have  spoken  to  him  about  this  mat- 
ter before  he  died." 

The  clerk  now  took  the  document  and  ran 
his  eye  over  it.  The  audience  had  risen  in 
their  excitement,  and  the  accused  had  also 
risen  and  had  to  lean  against  the  wall  for  sup- 
port. 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  that?"  asked  the 
clerk,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  Soren  Kvikne. 
Norby  had  turned  to  look  at  Mads  Herluf  sen. 
"That's  one  for  you!"  he  thought,  thinking 
too  that  Herlufsen  looked  as  if  he  had  got 
the  toothache. 

"What   have   you    to    say    to   that?"    re- 


188  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

peated  the  clerk,  as  Soren  Kvikne  stood 
staring  at  his  boots.  "You  said  you  were 
painting  a  carriole  when  he  told  you  about  it ; 
but  it  appears  that  your  memory  is  at  fault. 
How  do  you  explain  this?" 

But  Soren  was  by  no  means  equal  to  a  new 
explanation,  so  he  was  allowed  to  go. 

When  Norby  and  Marit  were  sitting  in  the 
sledge  in  the  twilight  ready  to  drive  home,  a 
number  of  people  crowded  about  them,  and 
gave  them  quite  an  ovation.  Norby  had  had 
his  case  in  such  first-rate  order  that  all  Wan- 
gen's  witnesses  had  only  provoked  laughter. 

As  the  old  man  took  up  the  reins,  Wangen 
chanced  to  pass.  He  looked  broken  down; 
and  as  he  caught  sight  of  his  adversary,  he 
suddenly  came  nearer  and  shook  his  fist  at 
him.  "You  wait!"  he  cried,  his  features  dis- 
torted with  anger.  "You  scoundrel!  You 
think  you've  won  to-day,  but  wait  a  little! 
You  shall  go  to  prison,  both  you  and  the  wo- 
man sitting  beside  you!"  He  made  a  sudden 
dash  forward  in  the  snow  as  if  to  attack  them ; 
but  two  men  caught  him  by  the  collar  and 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  189 

drew  him  away,  although  he  resisted  stren- 
uously. 

"Ah,  that  brandy!"  said  an  old  man,  shak- 
ing his  head  after  him.  "I  saw  that  there  con- 
sul had  him  into  the  hotel  and  stood  treat." 

"The  best  thing  would  be  for  the  bailiff  to 
take  him  in  charge  at  once,"  said  another, 
looking  sympathetically  at  Norby. 

Norby  laughed,  cracked  his  whip  and  drove 
off,  while  they  all  took  off  their  hats  to  him. 
He  was  tired.  There  had  been  so  much  excite- 
ment to-day.  But  he  seemed  to  be  sitting  all 
the  time  reading  aloud  that  declaration  and 
seeing  Herlufsen's  face.  He  should  never 
forget  it  as  long  as  he  lived. 

As  they  turned  into  the  yard  at  Norby, 
Ingeborg  came  out  on  the  steps,  and  said  in  a 
frightened  voice:  "Einar!" 

"Einar?"  said  Marit,  who  was  the  first  to 
get  out  of  the  sledge.  "He's  gone  back  to 
town,  hasn't  he?" 

"They  brought  him  here  in  a  sledge,"  said 
Ingeborg.  "I've  telephoned  for  the  doctor." 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  BRIGHT  moon  shone  out  from  among  float- 
ing, silvery  clouds,  over  snowy  fields  and  for- 
ests in  the  dead  of  night.  The  buildings  and 
the  flagstaff  at  Norby  cast  shadows  upon  the 
sparkling  snow.  The  sledges  standing  in  the 
yard  were  turned  up  on  their  edge,  so  as  not 
to  freeze  under  their  runners.  A  solitary  dog 
was  running  round  the  house,  giving  short 
barks  because  no  one  let  it  in,  although  there 
was  a  light  burning  in  one  of  the  attic  win- 
dows. 

During  the  night,  one  of  the  old  men  in  the 
pensioners'  house  got  out  of  bed  and  crept  to 
the  window  in  his  slippers.  He  stood  there 
with  the  moon  shining  in  his  face,  and  looked 
across  at  the  house.  The  other  farm-labourer 
was  also  awake,  and  after  yawning  asked: 

"I  suppose  there's  a  light  in  Einar's  win- 
dow, isn't  there?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  man  at  the  window,  hunch- 
ing his  shoulders  because  he  felt  cold.  "I 

190 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  191 

wonder,"  he  continued,  "whether  there  is  any 
change.'* 

The  dairymaid  could  now  be  heard  turning 
over  in  bed  in  her  little  room,  and  she  mur- 
mured: "The  dog  has  howled  so  dreadfully 
all  night,  and  that  doesn't  mean  anything 
good." 

There  was  a  pause.  The  old  man  at  the 
window  continued  to  stand  there  looking  out 
into  the  silvery  night  and  across  at  the  lighted 
window  in  the  big  house. 

"I  heard  owls  last  night,"  said  the  blind 
man  suddenly  from  his  bed,  and  yawned. 
"And  I've  not  heard  an  owl  here  since  old 
Norby  died." 

"Ah,  well,  Einar's  always  been  a  good  lad," 
said  the  dairymaid.  "God  have  mercy  upon 
his  soul!" 

There  was  another  pause. 

"It  seems  to  me  there's  some  one  walking 
up  and  down  in  the  big  drawing-room,"  said 
the  old  man  at  the  window.  The  next  moment 
he  hurried  into  bed  as  if  he  were  frightened. 
After  a  little,  the  blind  man  said: 


192  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"Wasn't  it  in  the  big  drawing-room  that  old 
Norby's  ghost  used  to  be  seen?" 

"If  there's  any  one  there  to-night,"  said  a 
voice  from  the  little  room,  "we  know  very  well 
what'll  happen." 

The  moon  drew  two  windows  right  across 
the  floor.  The  big  clock  on  the  wall  struck 
two,  and  the  old  men  turned  over  and  drew 
the  coverlet  over  their  heads. 

The  big  drawing-room  lay  between  Einar's 
room  and  that  in  which  the  servants  slept.  A 
figure  was  really  walking  up  and  down  there 
in  noiseless  felt  slippers.  The  moon  sent  a 
flood  of  light  across  the  floor,  and  the  frost- 
ferns  upon  the  window-panes  were  flames  of 
silver.  But  the  man  walking  about  there  kept 
in  the  shade.  At  last  he  paused  at  the  win- 
dow and  looked  out.  It  was  very  quiet  out 
there  in  the  night.  The  stars  twinkled  among 
the  shining  clouds,  and  lower  down  above  the 
hills  hung  red  and  black  banks  of  clouds, 
Jooking  like  some  strange,  variegated  land. 
The  old  man  wore  his  overcoat,  and  his  hands 
were  thrust  deep  into  his  pockets. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  193 

The  door  opened,  and  Ingeborg  entered 
with  a  candle  in  her  hand. 

"How  is  he?"  asked  the  old  man  quietly. 

"Won't  you  come  in,  father?" 

"Is  it  Einar  who  wants  me?" 

"No — mother.    He's  spitting  blood  again." 

But  the  old  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
answered: 

"They  often  do  that  in  inflammation  of  the 
lungs.  Just  you  go  back  and  take  it  quietly. 
He's  so  young  and  strong,  he'll  get  over  it  all 
right." 

Ingeborg  went  quietly  out,  and  the  old 
man  began  to  pace  the  floor  again.  There 
was  no  use  in  fetching  the  doctor  again;  the 
complaint  must  take  its  course.  But  the  old 
man  felt  he  must  be  here  because  he  could  not 
sleep,  and  because  the  women  wanted  to  have 
him  at  hand. 

"Oh  dear!"  he  thought.  "I  do  hope  Einar 
will  pull  through!"  But  the  terrible  thing 
was  that  sometimes  he  caught  himself  wish- 
ing that  he  would  not  pull  through. 
Thoughts  such  as  these  buzzed  about  like 
stinging  wasps  on  the  surface  of  his  mind. 


194  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

He  was  sometimes  frightened,  and  sometimes 
would  have  liked  to  have  given  himself  a 
thrashing;  but  the  wasps  came  again.  So  low 
had  he  been  dragged  down  in  this  confounded 
matter  with  Wangen. 

Why,  of  course  he  forgave  the  boy!  He 
would  never  refer  to  the  matter  again,  if 
the  boy  recovered.  But — but — this  illness  had 
followed  so  close  upon  his  anger;  and  i£ 
would  take  something  to  sweep  away  every  lit- 
tle sting. 

He  paused  again  at  the  window  and  looked 
out  into  the  bright  night.  The  wind  was 
rising  now  towards  morning,  and  began  to 
raise  snow-clouds  away  over  the  hills. 

Oh,  how  pleasant  life  would  be,  when  this 
nasty  case  was  done  with,  and  he  could  be  the 
old  ISTorby  once  more!  Here  he  lived  on  his 
farm,  and  only  wanted  to  be  left  in  peace ;  but 
was  he  allowed  to?  No;  they  dragged  him 
into  this  foolery  with  Wangen — wanted  him 
to  support  such  swindles  as  these  brickfields; 
&nd  when  he  wanted  to  get  out  of  it,  they 
threatened  him  with  imprisonment.  Then 
they  suborned  witnesses.  And  then  they  set 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  195 

the  son  up  against  his  father.  And  why 
was  Einar  ill?  If  they  hadn't  persuaded  him 
to  come  to  this  inquiry  he  would  have  been 
in  town  now  reading  his  books,  instead  of  go- 
ing down  there  on  a  winter's  day  without  his 
overcoat,  and  getting  inflammation  of  the 
lungs.  Supposing  he  died!  It  would  be  the 
fault  of  those  who  had  persuaded  him;  and 
they  would  be  sure  to  exult  if  Norby  lost  this 
son  too,  for  they  had  succeeded  in  causing 
him  to  lose  his  eldest.  His  lips  began  to  quiver 
as  he  stood  in  the  moonlight.  Would  they 
succeed?  Would  they  have  that  pleasure? 
And  he  turned  suddenly  and  walked  towards 
the  door.  "I'll  go  for  the  doctor  all  the  same," 
he  thought;  but  then  he  remembered  that  the 
doctor  had  promised  to  come  early  in  the 
morning,  and  he  turned  back  to  the  window 
and  stood  gazing  out  at  the  red  and  black 
banks  of  cloud  in  the  north. 

Supposing  Einar  died  and  went  over  there. 
There  he  would  stand  for  ever,  always  look- 
ing at  him  as  he  had  done  down  at  the  court- 
house, when  he  dug  his  stick  into  a  snowdrift. 
"I  want  to  follow  my  own  conscience." 


196  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

Would  he  not  hear  those  words  night  and  day, 
and  see  that  form,  as  long  as  ever  he  lived? 
Always  this  accusation  from  the  dead.  He 
might  travel  all  over  the  world  and  collect 
evidence  and  declarations  to  disprove  it,  but 
it  would  be  of  no  use. 

The  old  man  pressed  his  lips  together  again. 
No,  the  boy  must  be  kept  alive.  Better 
that  he  should  go  to  the  trial  and  give  evidence 
against  him,  than  die  and  witness  against  him 
everlastingly. 

The  wind  was  rising.  It  howled  round  the 
corners  of  the  house  and  in  the  roof,  and  up 
under  the  icicle-fringed  eaves.  In  the  east  a 
grey  band  of  light  began  to  show  above  the 
hills,  but  the  moon  still  spread  her  silvery  veil 
over  land  and  water. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  sound  of  sledge-bells 
going  down  the  avenue.  It  was  the  old  man, 
in  his  fur  coat  with  the  collar  turned  up,  has- 
tening away  to  fetch  the  doctor.  Einar  must 
be  kept  alive.  The  poor  dog,  which  had  not 
been  let  in,  uttered  a  joyful  bark  at  sight  of 
the  driver,  and  bounded  through  the  snow  to 
join  him. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  197 

It  was  still  long  before  any  one  at  the  farm 
got  up ;  only  the  pensioners  in  the  old  cottage 
began  to  yawn  in  their  sleep.  This  they  be- 
gan to  do  an  hour  before  they  woke,  and  they 
always  woke  at  four,  from  long  habit.  The 
dairymaid  always  had  it  in  her  mind  that  she 
had  to  get  up  to  go  to  the  cows,  as  she  did  fif- 
teen years  ago;  and  the  men  dreamed  of  get- 
ting up  and  going  to  the  forest,  as  they  had 
so  often  done  in  the  early  winter  mornings 
long  ago.  The  old  habit  had  now  become  reg- 
ular dreams.  Perhaps  when  these  old  people 
lie  in  the  churchyard  they  will  dream  the  tfame 
things  as  morning  approaches. 


PART  III 


CHAPTER  I 

ON  the  morning  after  the  inquiry,  Fru 
Wangen  rose  at  six,  as  she  was  now  without 
a  servant,  and  had  to  do  the  washing  that 
day.  She  had  scarcely  dressed  herself,  how- 
ever, before  she  was  obliged  to  sit  down.  She 
felt  so  tired  and  worn  out,  for  she  had  been 
awakened  not  only  by  the  children,  but  also 
by  Wangen  several  times  in  the  night,  and 
even  when  at  last  he  fell  asleep,  he  kept  cry- 
ing out  in  his  sleep. 

At  length  she  rose  to  go  down,  but  stood 
for  a  little  while  with  the  lamp  in  her  hand, 
and  let  the  light  fall  upon  him.  He  lay  curled 
up,  his  face  buried  in  the  pillow.  Perhaps  he 
was  dreaming  something  horrible  even  now. 

She  stole  quietly  out,  so  as  not  to  wake  any 
of  them.  In  the  rooms  downstairs  the  win- 
dows were  thick  with  ice;  and  while  she  knelt 
and  lighted  the  fires,  she  often  had  to  stop  to 
breathe  upon  her  fingers. 

At  a  little  past  eight  she  went  upstairs  to 

201 


202  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

surprise  him  with  a  cup  of  coffee  before  he  got 
up ;  but  while  she  was  on  the  stairs  she  heard 
him  calling  her,  although  he  might  have  known 
he  would  wake  the  children. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  she  said  as  she 
entered.  "Do  you  want  to  have  them  wake 
up?" 

He  sat  up  in  bed.  "Do  you  know,  Karen," 
he  said,  "there  is  no  doubt  that  that  Soren 
Kvikne,  who  came  and  offered  to  give  evi- 
dence, was  sent!" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  said,  standing 
still  with  the  tray  in  her  hand. 

"Can  you  tell  me  what  interest  that  poor 
man  could  have  in  going  and  giving  false  evi- 
dence that  was  so  easy  to  disprove?" 

"No,  no?"  She  still  stood  there,  and  hardly 
dared  to  offer  him  the  coffee. 

"No,  Karen,"  he  said;  "the  fact  is  that 
Norby  had  bought  him.  Herlufsen  of  Rud, 
who  once  pretended  he  was  on  my  side,  is  in 
the  ring  too,  as  I  might  have  known  before- 
hand. And  he  lent  this  man  of  his  in  order  to 
set  this  trap  for  me.  Upon  my  word  it  was 
well  calculated.  It  made  me  ridiculous  and  in- 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  203 

creased  people's  suspicion.  It  was  as  diaboli- 
cal as  it  could  be!" 

"Are  you  quite  sure  now,  Henry?" 

"Sure?"  He  became  still  more  angry. 
"Sure?  Good  heavens!" 

"Well,  because  I  can't  imagine  how  people 
can  be  so  wicked." 

"No,  you  can't  imagine,  although  you  have 
to  see  it  every  blessed  day.  I  begin  to  think 
you'd  rather  it  were  I  that  was  wicked." 

"Will  you  have  some  coffee?"  she  asked, 
handing  him  the  tray. 

While  he  sat  with  the  tray  in  front  of  him 
on  the  counterpane,  Fru  Wangen  drew  up  the 
blinds  to  let  in  the  wealth  of  snowlight  from 
the  bright  winter's  morning.  Shortly  after  she 
turned  to  him,  saying:  "I  got  such  a  fright 
this  morning." 

"You  got  a  fright?"  he  said,  as  he  gulped 
down  his  coffee. 

"Yes.  There  was  a  man  sitting  on  the  steps 
when  I  opened  the  door;  and  I  couldn't  help 
being  frightened,  for  it  was  the  tailor." 

"What?"  he  cried,  putting  down  the  cup. 

"He  must  be  mad.    He's  still  sitting  there. 


204  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

He  said  he  would  wait  until  you  came  down." 

"Can't  you  get  rid  of  the  fellow?"  he  said 
angrily. 

"No.  He  said  he'd  sit  there  now  until  you 
came.  I'm  at  my  wits'  end!" 

It  was  the  old  tailor,  who  had  lost  by  the 
bankruptcy  all  his  savings,  upon  which  Wan- 
gen  had  promised  him  such  good  interest.  He 
came  almost  every  day  and  wanted  to  speak 
to  Wangen;  but  the  latter  was  afraid  of  him, 
because  his  eyes  had  latterly  acquired  such  a 
wild  expression. 

It  was  not  this  tailor  only  who  was  con- 
stantly reminding  him  of  the  sad  consequences 
of  his  failure.  He  received  despairing  letters, 
begging  him  for  only  a  third  of  the  money  that 
had  been  entrusted  to  him;  and  letters  that 
threatened  and  cursed  him.  People  were  con- 
tinually coming  to  the  house  with  tears  and 
threats.  It  was  enough  to  make  one  mad. 

These  people  still  believed  that  he  and  no 
other  was  to  blame  for  the  disaster.  And  that 
was  not  the  worst;  for  in  Wangen's  inner  con- 
sciousness, dark  arms  were  extended,  and  he 
had  to  hasten  to  think  of  something  else. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  205 

"Here!"  he  said,  holding  out  the  tray  to  her. 

"But  you  haven't  drunk  your  coffee!"  she 
said  in  surprise. 

He  lay  down  again  with  his  hands  under 
his  head. 

"No,"  he  said;  "you  take  one's  appetite 
away,  Karen." 

"I  do?" 

"Well,  yes,  to  tell  the  truth.  I  can't  think 
what  pleasure  you  can  have  in  telling  me  this 
about  the  tailor.  I  think  you  ought  rather  to 
ask  him  to  go  to  Norby."  And  he  breathed 
hard,  as  if  something  exceedingly  painful  were 
working  in  him. 

"Well,  I'm  sorry,"  she  said,  sighing;  and 
taking  the  tray,  she  left  the  room. 

Since  the  inquiry  Wangen  had  lived  as  if  in 
a  fever.  His  tactics  for  asserting  his  inno- 
cence, namely,  trying  to  prove  that  the  forgery 
was  only  a  link  in  a  chain  of  conspiracies 
against  his  business,  had  turned  out  miserably. 
It  had  only  increased  people's  suspicion  of 
him.  It  did  not,  however,  on  that  account  oc- 
cur to  him  that  he  had  chosen  a  wrong  method 
of  procedure,  but  only  worked  his  suspicion 


206  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

up  to  greater  certainty.  The  belief  in  this  con- 
spiracy was  just  what  had  given  him  a  good 
conscience  in  the  midst  of  the  troubles  after 
his  failure. 

The  trial,  which  was  either  to  condemn  or 
acquit  him,  was  approaching  inexorably.  It 
was  not  the  fear  of  being  found  guilty  of  for- 
gery that  made  Wangen  ill  with  anxiety  as 
to  the  result,  for  of  that  he  could  acquit  him- 
self; but  the  dread  he  felt  was  of  having  his 
illusion  concerning  the  conspiracy  torn  to 
pieces,  and  thus  being  obliged  to  condemn  him- 
self. Moreover,  because  this  belief  in  the  mal- 
ice of  his  enemies  made  him  feel  good,  it  seemed 
like  treachery  in  his  wife  when  she  defended 
them.  He  grew  angry,  and  felt  inclined  to 
fly  at  her;  she  wanted  to  take  away  from  him 
the  plank  with  which  he  kept  himself  up. 

He  also  had  a  feeling  that  it  was  only  on 
the  basis  of  this  conspiracy  that  he  had  any 
right  to  make  the  working  men  his  brothers  in 
misfortune;  so  her  slightest  word  in  defence 
of  Norby  seemed  an  attempt  to  rob  himself  of 
a  virtue,  a  strength,  which  the  homage  of  the 
working  men  gave  him. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  207 

When  at  last  he  came  downstairs  that  morn- 
ing tfye  rooms  felt  very  warm  and  comfortable. 
"Has  the  tailor  gone?"  he  asked  almost  anx- 
iously. 

"Yes,"  she  answered — she  was  standing  in 
the  kitchen,  rinsing  clothes — "I  managed  to 
get  rid  of  him  at  last." 

When  he  had  finished  breakfast,  he  sat  down 
to  the  only  work  he  did  at  that  time,  namely, 
writing  articles  for  a  labour  paper.  The  title 
to-day  was  "The  Experiences  of  a  Factory 
Owner  with  Regard  to  the  Eight-hour  Work- 
ing Day." 

His  recollections  on  this  subject  acquired  a 
wonderful  golden  radiance  from  the  very  fact 
of  his  clinging  to  the  belief  that  the  cause  of 
his  ruin  lay  neither  in  himself  nor  in  any 
thoughtless  reform.  It  was  an  ideal  that  he 
felt  an  affection  for,  and  he  found  a  comfort 
in  glorifying  it,  because  it  acquitted  him  while 
at  the  same  time  it  cast  a  shadow  upon  his 
enemies. 

As  he  sat  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  becom- 
ing warmer  and  warmer  as  he  wrote,  the 


208  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

kitchen  door  opened  and  Fru  Wangen  entered 
with  her  sleeves  rolled  up. 

"Henry,  dear,"  she  said,  "are  you  going  to 
let  another  day  go  by  without  seeing  about  a 
house?" 

"I've  told  you,"  he  said,  a  little  irritated  at 
the  interruption,  "that  it's  no  good  looking  for 
a  house  as  long  as  I  have  this  hanging  over 
me."  And  he  went  on  writing,  when  she  con- 
tinued: 

"But  would  you  rather  be  turned  out?  Have 
you  forgotten  that  the  auction  is  to  be  here 
next  week?" 

He  threw  his  pencil  across  the  table.  Lat- 
terly she  seemed  always  to  be  having  a  sus- 
picion that  he  was  doing  something  wrong, 
and  must  therefore  come  and  interfere. 

"Can't  you  go  then  and  look  for  one,  instead 
of  coming  everlastingly  and  interrupting  me?" 
he  said. 

"I  didn't  know  it  was  anything  so  important, 
Henry.  And  if  you're  writing  something 
anonymous  about  Norby  or  others  that  you 
suspect,  please  don't  go  on  with  it!  I'm  sure 
you'll  only  lose  by  it." 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  209 

"It  seems  as  if  you  couldn't  imagine  my 
writing  anything  but  what  was  mean.  That's 
a  nice  thing  to  hear,  Karen." 

She  stood  a  few  moments  looking  at  him, 
and  then  went  quietly  out  into  the  kitchen,  and 
went  on  rinsing  children's  clothes  in  a  tub. 
She  found  it  painful  to  live  in  these  luxurious 
surroundings  when  none  of  it  was  theirs  any 
longer,  and  when  they  never  knew  for  certain 
at  dinner  whether  there  would  be  anything  for 
supper  or  not.  But  to  go  into  the  parish — she 
— and  beg  for  a  roof  over  their  heads,  was  the 
very  last  humiliation  she  would  take  upon  her- 
self;  for  this  was  just  what  so  many  people  had 
prophesied  when  she  married  him.  But  why 
did  he  not  go,  when  he  always  had  plenty  of 
time?  Why  could  he  not  save  her  a  little? 
These  were  the  thoughts  that  had  of  late  made 
Fru  Wangen  so  bitter. 

Wangen  succeeded  in  recovering  his  happy 
mood,  and  had  got  on  a  long  way  with  his  ar- 
ticle, when  his  wife  came  in  once  more  and 
disturbed  him.  This  time  she  had  their  two- 
year-old  little  girl  with  her. 

"You  must  forgive  me,  Henry,"  she  said, 


210  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"but  you  haven't  chopped  the  wood  I  asked 
you  for;  and  now  you  must  take  care  of  the 
child  while  I  go  out  and  do  it  myself." 

He  raised  his  head  and  looked  straight  be- 
fore him  for  a  moment.  Then  he  sighed  deep- 
ly. She  saw  that  he  had  something  to  say, 
and  stood  waiting  with  anxious  eyes. 

"Oh  dear!"  he  groaned. 

"Do  I  bother  you  so  dreadfully,  Henry?" 

"I  thought  you  would  help  me  a  little  just 
now,  Karen;  but  I  believe  even  if  people  came 
here  and  killed  me,  you  would  go  out  and  in 
just  as  calmly,  cook  and  wash,  think  of  house- 
rent,  and  above  all  not  forget  to  chop  wood. 

"It  must  be  done,  Henry.  It's  not  my  fault 
that  I  haven't  a  servant  now." 

At  this  he  rose  to  his  feet  in  great  excite- 
ment. 

"Are  you  beginning  with  that  again?  As 
sure  as  I  live,  I  shall  try  to  let  you  have  back 
your  money." 

She  drew  back  as  if  she  had  been  struck  in 
the  face,  and  then  she  too  grew  angry. 

"No,  really!"  she  cried.  "I  won't  bear  that! 
I  shall  soon  begin  to  wish  that  you  were  guilty, 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  211 

Henry;  for  to  tell  the  truth,  you  become  more 
and  more  unbearable  because  of  this  inno- 


cence." 


"What  do  you  say,  Karen?"  he  exclaimed, 
turning  pale  and  biting  his  lip. 

"You  heard  well  enough!"  she  said,  taking 
the  child  in  her  arms  and  leaving  the  room. 
In  a  little  while  he  heard  the  sound  of  wood- 
chopping  in  the  wood-shed. 

"It  won't  do  her  any  harm  to  chop  a  few 
sticks  of  firewood,"  he  thought;  "for  she  takes 
everything  else  quietly  enough,  goodness 
knows!  I  wonder  if  they  won't  succeed  in 
enticing  her  away  from  me  some  day." 

While  Fru  Wangen  chopped  wood,  she  had 
to  keep  a  watchful  eye  upon  the  child,  to  whom 
she  had  given  some  twigs  to  play  with.  It  was 
such  a  shame  that  on  account  of  this  innocence 
he  no  longer  bestowed  a  thought  upon  either 
her  or  the  children.  It  was  as  if  she  were  not 
allowed  to  think  about  anything  but  his  inno- 
cence, not  allowed  to  feel  anything  but  pity  for 
him.  It  was  not  five  weeks  since  they  had  laid 
a  little  baby  in  the  grave;  but  he  never  men- 
tioned it,  and  would  hardly  allow  her  to  do  so 


212  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

either.  But  it  was  his  continual  suspicion  that 
began  to  weary  her  most  of  all.  It  made  the 
whole  world  so  exceedingly  sad  and  ugly ;  and 
the  worst  of  it  was  that  she  involuntarily  be- 
gan to  be  infected  by  it,  like  a  disease  for  which 
she  felt  disgust,  and  which  she  would  like  to 
shake  off. 

And  while  he  was  resorting  to  more  and 
more  ignoble  means  for  defending  this  inno- 
cence, she  thought  he  grew  a  worse  man.  He 
oftener  came  home  drunk  than  he  had  ever 
done  before;  he  was  churlish  and  brooked  no 
contradiction.  It  was  as  if  this  innocence  not 
only  acquitted  him  of  all  the  evil  he  had  ever 
done,  but  it  also  gave  him  the  right  to  do  any- 
thing he  liked,  both  now  and  in  the  future. 

When  at  last  Fru  Wangen  came  in  again, 
he  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room. 

"Karen,"  he  said,  "can  you  blame  me  for  ex- 
pecting that  you  will  devote  yourself  a  little 
at  any  rate  to  me  just  now?" 

"But  what  is  it  you  want  me  to  do,  Henry? 
I'm  toiling  from  morning  to  night." 

"Yes,  you're  toiling ;  but  you  might  toil  a  lit- 
tle less.  Couldn't  you  let  my  aunt  have  the 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  213 

children  for  a  time?  You  know  she  would 
like  to,  and  you  could  be  sure " 

"Do  you  really  want  to  send  all  three  of 
them  away,  Henry?" 

He  stopped.  "Would  that  be  such  a  dread- 
ful thing?" 

"No,  perhaps  not  for  you,"  she  said,  and 
went  into  the  kitchen  again. 

It  was  near  the  middle  of  April,  and  the 
spring  had  begun  to  appear.  One  day  the 
sun  was  shining  warm  upon  the  bare  fields 
when  Fru  Wangen  stood  on  the  verandah 
looking  out  The  river  was  rushing  by,  yel- 
low and  foaming,  often  hidden  by  alder-bushes 
that  were  beginning  to  show  green  buds.  To 
the  right  lay  the  shining  lake,  reflecting  soft, 
bright  clouds. 

"Let  me  see,  mamma!"  cried  the  two  little 
girls,  as  they  hung  on  to  her  skirts,  both  trying 
to  climb  up  and  see. 

At  that  moment  she  heard  a  well-known 
cough  down  by  the  garden  gate.  It  was  her 
father.  It  was  always  painful  now  when  he 
came,  and  when  he  came  on  to  the  verandah 
breathing  hard,  she  was  sitting  in  the  draw- 


214  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

ing-room  with  her  sewing.  He  pretended  not 
to  see  that  she  rose  and  held  out  her  hand. 
The  two  little  girls,  who  had  run  up  to  their 
grandfather,  were  also  perplexed  at  his  push- 
ing them  away  as  he  made  his  way  to  a  com- 
fortable chair  and  sank  into  it.  He  was  breath- 
ing hard,  and  placed  his  stick  between  his 
knees,  resting  his  trembling  hands  upon  the 
handle. 

"Isn't  he  at  home  to-day  either?"  he  asked 
at  length. 

"No,  father." 

"He  used  always  to  be  at  home  before,  ha, 
ha!" 

The  old  man  was  over  seventy,  but  was  a 
very  giant.  His  long  white  hair,  thick,  yellow- 
ish beard  beneath  his  chin,  and  red,  watery 
eyes,  gave  him  a  patriarchal  appearance.  He 
was  dressed  in  black  frieze,  with  silver  but- 
tons on  his  waistcoat,  of  which  the  lowest  three 
were  left  unfastened  to  allow  for  his  corpu- 
lence. 

"How  are  you,  father?" 

"I?  Grand!  We're  going  to  have  an  auc- 
tion at  home — sell  every  mortal  thing;  and 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  215 

your  brother's  going  to  America,  and  I  shall 
have  nothing  to  live  on,  and  must  choose  be- 
tween going  with  him  or  to  the  workhouse." 

"Father!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  whisper,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  him. 

The  old  man  laughed  with  his  lips  com- 
pressed and  his  blue-red  hands  trembling  still 
more  upon  the  handle  of  his  stick.  His  head 
shook  too  upon  his  thin  neck. 

"Is  he  holding  a  meeting  for  the  work- 
people to-day  again?"  asked  the  old  man  with 
a  bitter  smile. 

"No,"  she  replied  in  a  low  voice. 

"It's  so  strange  to  us  old  fogies,  Karen,  that 
the  worse  people  are  themselves,  the  more 
they  feel  called  upon  to  make  others  better. 
Can  you  tell  me  what  he  has  to  say  to  those 
vagabonds — he,  the  man  who  has  cheated  them 
out  of  so  much  pay?" 

She  did  not  reply,  but  sighed. 

"And  those  'working  men' — yes.  They're 
amusing  too.  You  may  cheat  them  as  much  as 
you  like,  if  only  you  provide  them  lectures  to 
listen  to.  Never  mind  food  and  clothes,  if  only 


216  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

they  can  have  bits  of  paper  to  go  about  with 
and  wave.  Yes,  it  is  strange  in  these  days." 

"You  don't  think  of  going  to  America  then, 
father?" 

"No,  not  if  he  pays  me  back  the  last  ten 
thousand  krones;  for  he  said  he  wanted  them 
only  for  a  fortnight."  The  old  man  laughed 
again. 

"You  can  be  quite  sure  he  said  it  in  good 
faith,  father." 

"Good  faith!  Yes,  of  course!  And  this 
good  faith  is  now  driving  us  out  of  house  and 
home.  That  was  good  faith  indeed!" 

Fru  Wangen  again  closed  her  lips  and  kept 
silence. 

The  old  man  passed  his  hand  across  his 
mouth. 

"But  I  want  something  in  return.  You 
must  leave  him,  Karen,  both  you  and  the  chil- 
dren; for  if  I  were  to  go  to  America,  I  should 
die  in  the  middle  of  the  Atlantic.  Now  I  might 
perhaps  get  a  living  out  of  the  farm  all  the 
same.  But  do  you  imagine  that  I'll  live  there 
and  see  strangers  managing  the  farm,  if  none 
of  my  own  family  are  with  me?  You  must  live 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  217 

with  me;  do  you  hear,  Karen ?"  And  he  fixed 
his  red  eyes  upon  her. 

Fru  Wangen  looked  at  him  quite  helpless- 
ly, but  after  a  little  shook  her  head ;  and,  as  so 
often  before,  the  old  man  went  away  in  a 
rage,  threatening  that  he  would  never  set  his 
foot  there  again.  But  in  a  little  while  she 
heard  his  voice  in  the  garden,  and  going  on  to 
the  verandah,  she  saw  him  standing  at  the 
garden  gate  looking  back,  with  trembling 
hands  on  the  handle  of  his  stick. 

"You've  thought  over  your  answer,  Ka- 
ren?" he  cried.  "For  it's  the  last  time  I  shall 
ask  anything  of  you." 

She  could  not  answer,  but  made  a  helpless 
motion  with  her  hands  and  went  in,  where  she 
sank  upon  a  sofa  and  began  to  sob.  But  leave 
Wangen?  No,  people  would  be  right  then! 

When  Wangen  came  home  he  told  her  that 
the  workmen  had  determined  on  a  demonstra- 
tion on  the  first  of  May,  and  that  he  had  a  sus- 
picion that  they  intended  going  to  Norby 
Farm. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  this  pleased  him,  and 
she  rose  suddenly,  saying:  "It  isn't  you,  I 


218  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

suppose,  Henry,  that  have  thought  of  this,  is 
it?" 

"I?  Oh,  of  course!"  he  replied,  smiling  a 
little  scornfully. 

"Yes;  but  you'll  do  what  you  can  to  pre- 
vent it?" 

"Goodness  me,  how  you  do  take  on!  To  tell 
the  truth,  I'm  not  going  to  prevent  it.  To 
make  known  their  opinion  in  a  body  is  the  only 
weapon  these  poor  working  men  have;  and  I 
can't  blame  them  for  wishing  to  show  Norby 
and  the  other  money-bags  what  they  think  of 
them." 

"That's  just  what  I  thought!"  she  sighed, 
and  left  the  room. 

It  was  doubly  painful  to  her  to  despise  him 
now,  when  she  was  obliged  to  cling  to  him 
against  all  the  world.  It  was  just  now  that 
she  needed  to  respect  him;  but  the  worst  of 
it  was  that  while  others  were  trying  to  ruin 
him  he  was  doing  them  the  service  of  ruining 
himself. 

One  day  they  received  notice  from  the  liqui- 
dators that  the  works  and  villa  had  been  sold 
privately,  and  that  they  must  quit  them  at 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  219 

once.  And  so  the  day  came  when  Fru  Wan- 
gen  had  to  go  and  look  for  rooms.  There  was 
an  empty  cottage  on  a  farm  close  by  that  had 
been  occupied  by  a  schoolmaster;  but  the 
owner,  Lars  Kringen,  had  once  proposed  to 
her  and  been  refused;  and  to  go  to  him  now — ! 
But  after  going  round  to  a  number  of  houses, 
she  came  home  quite  discouraged,  and  re- 
mained sitting  with  her  hat  and  jacket  on.  She 
had  received  the  answer  "No"  everywhere. 
But  a  house  they  must  have;  and  she  felt  she 
could  not  ask  Wangen  again.  "Well,"  she 
thought,  rising,  "I  may  just  as  well  throw  the 
last  overboard!"  And  she  went  to  Lars 
Kringen. 

A  few  days  later  a  cart-load  of  furniture 
was  driven  from  the  door  of  the  pretty  villa. 
Upon  it  sat  two  children,  and  Fru  Wangen 
carried  the  third  in  her  arms.  A  little  way  be- 
hind, Wangen  walked  with  bowed  head,  and 
hands  buried  in  the  pockets  of  his  coat. 

The  little  cottage  stood  upon  a  mound  sur- 
rounded with  fir-trees,  and  had  only  two  rooms 
and  a  kitchen ;  and  when  they  entered,  the  dif- 
ference between  it  and  the  home  they  had 


220  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

left  brought  them  both  to  a  standstill  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  The  rooms  were  dark,  the 
paint  was  worn  off  the  doors  and  window- 
frames,  the  boards  were  splintered,  and  the 
timbers  in  the  walls  cracked. 

Fru  Wangen  had  to  undertake  a  very  thor- 
ough cleaning. 

The  greatest  humiliation,  however,  had  still 
to  be  gone  through.  They  had  to  ask  Lars 
Kringen  for  milk  and  provisions  on  credit; 
and  on  her  way  to  and  from  his  house  Fru 
Wangen  felt  as  if  she  could  sink  into  the  earth. 
But  all  this  was  Wangen's  fault,  and  strive 
as  she  would  she  could  not  help  a  growing  bit- 
terness from  rising  up  in  her  heart  against 
him ;  and  in  all  this  poverty  and  discomfort,  it 
soon  came  to  be  that  they  never  talked  to  one 
another  except  to  scold.  And  Wangen  came 
home  drunk  more  and  more  frequently. 


CHAPTER  II 

EINAR  NORBY  still  kept  his  bed.  He  sat  up 
among  his  pillows  in  the  middle  of  the  day, 
and  each  day  a  little  longer  than  on  the  pre- 
ceding one.  As  the  days  passed,  he  saw  the 
last  patch  of  snow  melt  away  down  in  the 
yard,  and  heard  the  noise  of  wheels  take  the 
place  of  the  sledge-bells'  jingle,  and  the  star- 
ling making  a  noise  in  the  gutter  over  his 
head.  One  day,  too,  he  heard  the  sheep  being 
let  out  with  a  great  deal  of  bleating  in  deep 
and  high  tones,  and  little  Knut  shouting  at 
them  from  the  steps. 

To  Einar  this  illness  was  a  black  darkness 
that  separated  him  from  something  that  had 
happened  long  ago,  and  about  which  he  could 
not  now  think.  As  he  emerged  from  this  dark- 
ness, too,  it  struck  him  how  comfortable  he  was 
lying  there.  He  was  a  child  once  more, 
wrapped  in  the  clothes  his  mother  put  upon 
him,  and  eating  what  she  gave  him  with  her 

own  hand;  he  showed  temper,  and  was  exact- 

221 


222  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

ing,  and  she  scolded  him;  she  washed  him,  and 
warmed  his  night-shirt  for  him  at  the  stove, 
as  in  days  gone  by. 

A  recovery  from  such  an  illness  is  like  be- 
ing born  into  the  world  again.  Worn  out  as 
one  is,  every  little  trouble  brings  the  tears  to 
one's  eyes,  just  as  they  make  the  baby  scream; 
and  waiting  for  mother  when  she  is  away  too 
long  is  unbearable  torture. 

As  his  strength  returned,  Einar  noticed  that 
his  father  never  came  to  see  him;  and  at  the 
same  time  he  understood  that  this  was  some- 
thing he  ought  not  to  mention.  It  was  also 
something  that  he  ought  not  to  think  about; 
for  there  was  so  much  besides  that  went  with 
it,  and  that  should  not  be  allowed  to  come 
near  him  now. 

One  day  Ingeborg  came  up  with  some  hot 
water  in  a  bath,  saying  she  thought  *it  was 
about  time  he  had  his  feet  washed;  and  as  he 
put  out  his  clammy  feet,  and  enjoyed  the  wet 
sponge  and  her  gentle  touch,  the  tears  came 
again  to  his  eyes.  "Oh,  how  good  it  is  to  be  at 
home  now!"  he  thought. 

He  remembered  that  during  his  first  attacks 


The  Power  of  a  IAe  223 

of  fever  he  had  felt  horror  at  being  tended  by 
those  whom  he  had  betrayed;  but  that  must 
have  been  part  of  the  illness.  During  the  fe- 
verish attacks  he  had  also  seen  Wangen  stand- 
ing in  the  room  and  saying:  "I  shall  be  sent 
to  prison,  and  it  is  your  fault."  And  Einar 
had  screamed  with  terror;  but  that  too  had 
been  part  of  his  illness,  and  he  had  now  recov- 
ered from  it.  Yes,  it  was  a  strange  thing  to  be 

m. 

While  his  sister  dried  his  feet  with  a  warm 
bath-towel,  he  looked  up  at  the  ceiling  and 
thought:  "Thank  goodness  that  I  was  pre- 
vented from  doing  these  people  any  harm!" 

As  the  days  passed,  and  he  gradually  be- 
came able  once  more  to  retain  difficult 
thoughts,  he  felt  a  certain  fear  as  to  how  it 
would  be  when  he  went  downstairs  and  met 
his  father.  He  supposed  he  would  have  to  ask 
his  forgiveness;  but  that,  too,  caused  him  a 
strange  pain.  Thoughts  came  to  him.  "I  have 
abandoned  a  sacred  purpose;  and  just  because 
I  am  lying  here  and  receiving  all  this  affec- 
tion, I  am  becoming  more  and  more  powerless 
to  take  it  up  again.  I  was  to  save  an  innocent 


224  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

man  from  punishment,  and  I  was  to  stand  a 
test  of  character.  But  I  broke  down.  I  took 
flight!  And  now  I  am  lying  and  thanking 
God  for  it  I" 

"Mother!"  he  cried  involuntarily;  and  if 
$he  were  not  in  the  room,  he  would  be  seized 
with  an  uncomfortable  fear  until  she  came 
back  and  he  knew  her  to  be  near  him. 

"How  pale  and  thin  you  are,  mother!  How 
often  you  must  have  sat  up  at  night!" 

"That's  nothing,  my  dear  boy.  How  are 
you  now?  Is  there  anything  you've  a  fancy 
for?" 

He  felt  these  few  affectionate  words  quite 
overwhelming,  because  they  dispelled  all  fears 
and  for  a  time  gave  him  perfect  contentment 
and  rest. 

Ingeborg  came  up  one  day  with  some  bud- 
ding birch  twigs,  which  she  threw  upon  his 
bed.  "There's  a  harbinger  of  spring,"  she 
said.  "Now  you  must  be  quick  and  come  out, 
and  see  what  I'm  doing  in  the  garden." 

When  at  last  he  was  allowed  to  sit  up,  his 
seat  was  placed  at  the  window.  Girls  were 
running  bare-headed  across  the  yard.  They 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  225 

were  laughing  and  joking.  It  made  him  smile 
too.  He  had  had  a  lot  of  fun  down  there 
among  the  houses  as  a  boy;  there  was  a  rem- 
iniscence connected  with  every  corner,  and 
these  were  now  awakened,  and  all  his  ideas 
connected  themselves  more  and  more  with  the 
place  and  the  people  who  lived  in  it. 

Ingeborg  came  to  him  rather  timidly  one 
day,  and  asked  him  to  let  her  read  to  him  out 
of  a  devotional  book,  and  he  assented  in  order 
to  give  her  a  pleasure.  Gradually,  as  he  lis- 
tened, however,  he  began  to  think  it  was  beau- 
tiful. He  had  been  mistaken  in  this  too. 

One  evening,  when  the  reading  was  over, 
she  said:  "The  lake  is  quite  open  now;  the 
steamer  ran  to-day."  And  Einar  saw  the  great 
ppen  lake,  its  surface  of  a  greenish  colour  from 
the  melting  of  the  snow.  Logs  were  drifting 
about  here  and  there,  and  a  bird  was  sitting 
upon  a  solitary  piece  of  ice  and  floating  along 
with  it,  now  and  again  flapping  its  wings.  He 
saw  the  steamer  with  its  awning,  and  ladies  on 
board  in  light  dresses.  Heigh-ho!  Summer 
was  coming! 


226  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"Do  you  know  what  father's  doing?"  asked 
Ingeborg  with  a  smile. 

"Father?"  whispered  Einar,  turning  his 
head  towards  the  wall. 

"Yes.  He's  having  a  little  room  put  up 
for  you  at  the  sceter.  The  doctor  wants  you 
to  be  on  the  mountains  this  summer." 

Einar  turned  his  face  to  her  and  smiled  sud- 
denly like  a  naughty  boy.  Was  his  father 
really  thinking  about  him  and  doing  some- 
thing for  him  too? 

"Father  hasn't  come  to  see  me,"  he  said 
after  a  little,  sadly. 

Ingeborg  sighed  and  gazed  at  the  candle. 

"He  asks  after  you  a  hundred  times  a  day," 
she  said ;  "and  when  you  were  worst,  he  neither 
slept  nor  ate." 

A  little  later  she  looked  at  Einar's  pale  face 
among  the  pillows;  and  though  his  eyes  were 
closed,  the  tears  were  forcing  their  way  from 
under  their  lids,  and  his  lips  were  compressed. 
She  rose,  and  wiped  the  tears  away  with  her 
pocket-handkerchief,  saying:  "I  think  it's  to 
spare  you  that  father  doesn't  come.  And  be- 
sides, you  can  hardly  expect  him  to  come  as 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  227 

long  as  he  doesn't  know  what  you  think  of 
him." 

Einar's  lips  were  more  tightly  compressed, 
as  if  something  hurt  him. 

"Shall  I  ask  father  to  come,  Einar?" 

"Yes,"  he  whispered. 

Norby  had  said  to  his  wife  that  there  had 
been  a  disagreement  between  himself  and 
Einar,  and  that  he  would  not  go  in  to  see  him 
until  the  boy  was  well  enough  to  talk  about  the 
matter. 

He  had  gradually  become  quite  sure  that  his 
enemies  had  incited  the  boy  against  him;  but 
who  could  have  been  knowing  enough  for 
that?  Einar!  Yes,  it  was  well  done. 

But  how  anxiously  he  had  waited  to  see 
whether  Einar  would  send  to  him;  for  after 
the  manner  in  which  they  had  parted,  he  did 
not  feel  able  to  see  him  until  he  yielded.  But 
would  he  yield?  Should  he  get  his  boy  back? 

What  were  his  thoughts  now  when  the  mo- 
ment came  at  last?  He  went  slowly  up  the 
stairs,  but  had  to  hold  tight  to  the  banisters. 
When  he  entered  the  room,  he  saw  at  once  how 
emaciated  the  boy  was.  The  thin  beard  that 


228  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

had  been  allowed  to  grow  while  he  was  ill  made 
him  unrecognizable.  Einar's  eyes  were  still 
wet,  and  he  smiled  anxiously  as  he  held  out  his 
hand. 

Ingeborg  had  come  up  again  with  him,  but 
slipped  quietly  out  when  she  saw  her  father's 
emotion;  and  the  two  were  left  alone.  The 
old  man's  lips  were  compressed  as  he  seated 
himself  and  took  his  son's  outstretched  hand. 
It  was  so  damp  and  nerveless  and  thin  that  he 
was  quite  afraid  to  take  hold  of  it.  Einar  saw 
his  father's  emotion,  and  worn  and  excited  as 
he  was  already,  he  burst  into  tears. 

"Forgive  me,  father!" 

The  old  man  rose  and  arranged  the  cover- 
let better  about  his  son. 

"Don't  talk  about  it!"  he  managed  to  say. 
"And  you  mustn't  take  this  to  heart  now;  it's 
bad  for  you." 

When,  a  little  later,  the  old  man  once  more 
stood  alone  in  his  office,  he  was  sniffing  as  if 
he  had  a  cold. 

"Heaven  be  praised!"  he  said,  with  his  eyes 
raised  to  the  ceiling.  "Thank  God  that  I  have 
got  my  boy  back  again!" 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  229 

He  sank  upon  the  leather  sofa  and  sat  star- 
ing in  front  of  him,  his  lips  trembling.  Noth- 
ing so  great  had  ever  happened  at  Norby  be- 
fore. And  so  there  was  a  higher  purpose  in 
this  illness.  He  understood  it  now. 

"Thank  God!"  he  said  again,  with  his  eyes 
raised  to  the  ceiling. 

When  a  woman  gets  back  her  child  that  rob- 
bers have  taken,  one  can  understand  that  her 
joy  is  unbounded,  but  that  her  hatred  of  those 
who  took  him  from  her,  her  fear  of  their  com- 
ing again,  and  her  desire  to  render  them  harm- 
less, are  just  as  great  as  her  happiness.  It 
was  the  same  with  Norby  now.  In  the  midst 
of  his  joy  he  thought  of  Wangen.  "They 
didn't  succeed,"  he  thought.  "There's 
One  who's  stronger  than  all  their  artifices." 
While  he  sat  and  thanked  God  in  an  inde- 
scribable feeling  of  happiness,  he  saw  Wan- 
gen  and  his  other  enemies  as  evil  forces  that 
might  come  again;  but  they  should  really  be 
made  harmless  now.  "He  shall  leave  the  dis- 
trict!" he  thought,  in  mingled  anger  and  pleas- 
ure. "He's  done  harm  enough  now.  He 
shan't  only  go  to  jail;  he  ought  to  be  trans- 


230  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

ported!"  And  if  Norby's  best  friend  had  now 
said  to  him:  "But  you  have  guaranteed  for 
this  same  Wangen,"  Norby  would  have 
knocked  him  down.  For  God  knows  it  was 
false.  Could  the  hands  be  clean  of  a  man 
who  had  recourse  to  such  tricks?  No,  no,  no! 
If  a  thought  such  as  this  crossed  the  old  man's 
mind,  it  filled  him  with  disgust,  and  he  felt 
he  must  spit  it  out.  No,  he  was  completely  in 
the  right.  That  devil  actually  declared  that 
Norby  had  signed  his  document  at  the  Grand! 
Good  gracious! 

"I  thank  Thee,  O  God!— But  he  shall  be 
turned  out  of  the  district!" 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  day  came  at  length  on  which  Fru  Wan- 
gen's  father  and  brother  were  to  leave  their 
farm.  She  had  determined  to  get  up  very 
early  in  order  to  go  and  help  them  with  any- 
thing that  might  be  wanted ;  but  at  four  o'clock 
she  was  awakened  by  somebody  knocking  at 
their  door.  She  was  surprised,  but  got  up, 
put  something  on,  and  went  to  the  door,  and 
asked  who  was  there. 

It  was  her  brother.  When  she  opened  the 
door,  she  saw  in  the  grey  light  that  he  looked 
quite  distracted. 

"Is  anything  the  matter?"  she  asked. 

"Father!"  he  whispered  in  a  terrified  whis- 
per, and  remained  standing  outside. 

"Do  come  in!  What's  the  matter  with  fa- 
ther?" 

Her  brother  did  not  answer  immediately, 
but  walked  past  her  into  the  room,  and  sat 
down  heavily.  By  this  time  she  was  so  fright- 

231 


232  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

ened  that  she  did  not  dare  to  ask,  but  stood 
dumbly  waiting. 

And  as  she  stood  there  in  the  half-light,  with 
her  shawl  wrapped  round  her,  her  brother 
told  her,  as  carefully  as  he  could,  that  the  eve- 
ning before  they  had  missed  his  father,  and 
had  been  round  the  neighbourhood,  searching 
and  inquiring.  And  at  last  they  had  found 
him  hanging  in  the  barn  at  home. 

When  Wangen  at  last  came  down  in  the 
morning  he  found  his  wife  sitting  in  the  same 
scanty  attire  in  the  sitting-room,  staring 
straight  before  her.  There  was  no  coffee  made, 
nothing  was  done;  she  only  sat  there. 

"Why,  Karen!    What  is  it?" 

"Nothing',"  she  said  huskily. 

This  day,  too,  she  had  to  go  about  and  see  to 
the  day's  work.  The  eldest  girl  had  to  go  to 
school,  the  two  younger  ones  to  be  taken  care 
of,  and  the  usual  errands  to  be  gone  up  to  the 
farm  to  fetch  food  and  milk.  But  all  the  time 
her  old  father  seemed  to  be  with  her.  Rather 
than  leave  the  home  of  his  ancestors  in  pov- 
erty he  had  parted  with  life.  She  could  see 
him  hanging  by  his  thin  neck  in  the  barn  where 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  233 

she  had  so  often  played  blind  man's  buff;  and 
all  the  time  he  kept  saying:  "It  is  your  fault! 
Why  did  you  marry  him?  Now  you  seel'* 

Great  exertion  was  needed  to  make  her  feet 
carry  her  where  she  had  to  go. 

When  Wangen  heard  it,  he  sat  motionless 
for  some  time,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 
The  image  of  this  old  man,  whom  he  had 
driven  to  death  by  his  recklessness,  took  him 
back  onoe  more  to  that  afternoon  in  the  dark 
railway  carriage  when  self-knowledge  and  cold 
responsibility  had  overwhelmed  him  as  a  su- 
perhuman burden. 

"Oh!"  he  cried  suddenly,  starting  up,  "this 
is  too  much,  Karen!  I  can't  bear  it;  you  must 
help  me!" 

"I  think  you  ought  to  help  me/'  she  replied 
monotonously,  without  looking  at  him. 

Later  in  the  day  he  came  in  and  found 
her  again  sitting  and  gazing  straight  before 
her,  motionless  and  far  away,  although  their 
youngest  child  was  standing  crying  and  pull- 
ing at  her  skirts.  And  when  she  fixed  her 
eyes  upon  him  he  started  involuntarily.  He 


234  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

did  not  know  whether  her  gaze  was  full  of 
terror  of  him,  or  whether  it  was  hatred. 

"Now  she  thinks  this  is  my  fault,  and  she'll 
say  so  soon!"  he  thought;  and  although  he 
knew  it  was  true,  he  felt  a  desire  to  oppose  and 
keep  her  at  a  distance.  "As  if  I  hadn't  enough 
to  bear  already!"  he  thought.  "And  she  wants 
to  throw  this  upon  me !"  And  he  worked  him- 
self up  to  still  greater  irritation  against  her, 
as  if  this  new  misfortune  had  been  in  some 
way  or  other  due  to  her. 

They  went  about  in  fear  of  one  another, 
each  keeping  silence  from  a  suspicion  that  the 
other  was  ready  to  recriminate.  They  had 
been  torn  from  the  home  in  which  they  had 
passed  happy  years,  and  the  discomfort  and 
poverty  of  the  miserable  cottage  only  helped  to 
remind  them  of  their  misfortune  and  keep 
them  apart. 

While  Fru  Wangen  was  standing  in  the 
kitchen  making  some  soup  for  the  children, 
she  suddenly  sank  into  a  chair  and  stared  into 
the  fire  with  terrified  eyes,  for  her  father,  as 
he  hung  there,  said  that  he  did  not  mind  about 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  235 

Wangen.  It  was  only  she  he  troubled  about, 
she  who  had  brought  him  into  the  family. 

It  was  she!    It  was  she! 

The  soup  boiled  over,  and  Fru  Wangen 
did  not  notice  it.  The  floor  seemed  to  be 
sliding  away  from  under  her,  and  she  thought 
that  something  black  stretched  out  hands 
towards  her  until  she  turned  cold  with  terror, 
and  began  involuntarily  to  look  for  something 
to  save  her. 

It  was  the  bankruptcy  that  had  ruined 
them  all.  But  supposing  that  Wangen  were 
really  innocent?  Then  her  father  might  have 
made  his  speech  to  those  who  were  guilty. 
She  also  now  saw  in  Wangen's  innocence  a 
plank  to  which  she  could  cling.  He  was  in- 
nocent; he  must  be  innocent. 

Later  in  the  day  Wangen  had  gone  to  her 
father's  farm,  as  she  did  not  feel  equal  to  it; 
but  he  turned  back,  too,  when  he  saw  the 
house.  He  dared  not  see  the  dead  man. 

When  he  came  home,  his  wife  was  sitting 
alone,  with  her  elbows  upon  the  table  and  her 
chin  resting  in  her  hands. 


236  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"Where  are  the  children?"  he  asked  at  once, 
looking  round. 

"They're  sent  away,"  she  said  in  a  dull  tone, 
looking  at  him. 

An  uncomfortable  suspicion  suddenly 
crossed  his  mind. 

"But  tell  me  where  they  are,"  he  said,  open- 
ing the  door  to  the  other  room ;  but  there  was 
no  one  there. 

"I  telephoned  for  your  aunt,"  she  said,  in 
the  same  tone  as  before.  "She  came  at  once, 
and  drove  away  a  little  while  ago."  And  as 
he  still  stood  and  looked  at  her  a  little  uncer- 
tainly, she  added,  "I  thought  it  would  be  better 
for  you,  Henry.  Is  there  anything  you 
would  like  me  to  help  you  with?" 

It  sounded  so  mysterious.  He  did  not 
thank  her,  because  he  felt  it  was  not  to  him 
she  spoke,  but  to  herself. 

It  was  uncomfortably  empty  in  the  bed- 
room when  they  went  to  bed  that  night.  The 
children's  places  were  empty. 

Although  Fru  Wangen  had  been  frightened 
into  turning  to  her  husband,  clung  to  his  in- 
nocence, and  felt  a  desire  to  support  him  and 


Tlie  Power  of  a  Lie  237 

show  him  confidence,  she  could  not  speak  to 
him  yet;  for  she  did  not  want  to  say  anything 
unkind,  and  she  could  not  yet  say  anything 
kind.  The  silence  was  all  the  greater  because 
there  was  no  sound  of  whimpering,  no  gentle 
breathing,  no  little  bodies  turning  over  in  bed 
or  requiring  covering.  Husband  and  wife  were 
thrown  back  upon  each  other,  and  the  silence 
and  the  breach  between  them  forced  them  to 
look  into  themselves,  where  each  saw  the  old 
man  hanging  in  the  barn. 

Wangen  was  in  bed  before  his  wife,  and 
lay  looking  at  her.  It  took  her  so  long  to 
undress;  it  was  as  though  she  dreaded  going 
to  bed.  Now  and  again  she  looked  round  be- 
wildered, as  if  she  expected  to  find  the  chil- 
dren there  after  all. 

"It's  not  my  fault  this  time  at  any  rate," 
he  thought;  "but  she'll  lay  the  blame  on  to 
me  all  the  same." 

When  at  last  she  was  in  bed,  lying  on  her 
back  with  her  hands  under  her  head,  looking 
up  at  the  ceiling,  he  had  an  uncomfortable 
feeling  that  she  was  capable  of  anything, 
perhaps  that  very  night  when  he  was  asleep. 


238  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

A  tallow  candle  was  burning  on  a  stool  by 
his  .bedside,  but  he  dared  not  put  it  out. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  put  out  the  candle?" 
she  asked  in  a  dull  voice,  still  looking  at  the 
ceiling. 

He  had  to  put  it  out  at  last.  The  grey 
light  of  the  spring  night  showed  in  the  win- 
dow, which  had  no  blind,  and  they  both  lay 
with  wide-open  eyes  fixed  on  this  faint  light, 
as  if  they  were  afraid  of  closing  them  or  look- 
ing into  darkness.  Neither  of  them  had  any 
pretext  for  rising  to  attend  to  one  or  other  of 
the  children;  so  they  were  forced  to  lie  still 
and  let  the  thoughts  put  up  their  heads  out  of 
the  night.  She  seemed  to  see  her  father  as 
he  was  the  last  time  he  came  to  her,  saw  him 
down  in  the  garden,  heard  his  opinion  of  her 
husband.  "Why  wasn't  I  more  compliant 
then?"  she  thought.  "It's  too  late  now!  I 
can  never  make  up  for  it!  What  have  I 
done?" 

Wangen  lived  over  again  the  scene  when 
he  had  borrowed  the  last  ten  thousand 
krones.  He  lied,  he  exaggerated,  he  per- 
suaded— and  believed  in  it.  That  was  how 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  239 

it  seemed  with  all  his  ideals  now.  He 
believed  in  them;  they  intoxicated  him 
slightly;  but  just  look  at  the  consequences! 

He  involuntarily  began  to  tremble  in  his 
bed,  for  he  felt  as  if  he  would  have  to  drag 
the  dead  body  of  the  old  man  after  him  for 
ever  and  ever.  Fru  Wangen  noticed  his 
distress,  and  it  made  her  own  greater.  "Is  it 
his  fault  after  all?"  she  thought,  and  felt  her 
anger  rise.  But  in  that  case  it  would  be  her 
fault,  too.  No,  he  was  innocent;  he  must  be 
innocent.  The  desire  to  hold  him  up  insensi- 
bly gained  the  upper  hand,  and  she  put  out  her 
hand  towards  him. 

"Take  hold  of  my  hand,  Henry!" 

And  when  their  hands  lay  in  one  another's 
— the  two  alone  together — they  were  as  they 
had  been  when  they  were  newly  married  and 
fell  asleep  with  fingers  intertwined. 

"Shouldn't  I  have  married  him  when  I  was 
fond  of  him?"  she  thought,  as  if  her  father 
could  hear;  and  she  insensibly  conjured  up 
the  memory  of  the  beautiful  moments  in  their 
early  love,  as  if  to  convince  herself  that  she 
was  honest  now. 


240  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

But  her  father  had  objections  to  make — 
hanging  there — and  she  involuntarily  pressed 
her  husband's  hand  closer.  This  union  of 
their  hands  in  affection  gave  their  fear  another 
direction.  They  were  at  last  able  to  occupy 
themselves  with  others,  and  therefore  began 
to  be  sorry  for  one  another,  because  that  kept 
them  from  seeing  to  the  bottom  of  their  own 
misery. 

"My  poor  Karen!"  said  Wangen.  "It's 
worst  for  you,  after  all." 

Siie  loosed  his  hands  to  stroke  his  wrist,  and 
answered  in  a  low  voice:  "Oh  no,  Henry!  It's 
worst  for  you.  Good  heavens!" 

"No,  Karen,  for  I'm  a  man;  and  he  was 
your  father." 

The  last  words  gave  her  a  shock,  and  once 
more  brought  the  image  of  the  dead  man 
before  her  eyes.  But  she  could  not  stand  this 
any  longer.  It  couldn't  be  Wangen's  fault. 
And  insensibly  she  took  refuge  in  Wangen,  in 
his  innocence,  wherein  now  lay  her  only  safety. 

"Henry,  may  I  come  into  your  bed?" 

"Yes,  dear." 

He  too  was  glad  not  to  feel  alone   any 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  241 

more.  He  held  up  the  bedclothes,  and  she 
crept  in,  and  as  in  the  old  days  laid  her  head 
upon  his  shoulder,  clung  to  him  so  as  to  feel 
safe  and  calm. 

He  covered  her  up  carefully,  and  put  his 
arms  about  her.  The  confidence  of  each 
inspired  the  other,  and  they  took  refuge  in 
one  another,  in  the  hope  of  finding  the  good 
conscience  they  both  sought  for.  And  as  the 
warmth  of  one  body  was  imparted  to  the  other, 
and  they  became  one,  they  began  involuntarily 
to  talk  of  their  common  excuse,  as  if  to  con- 
vince themselves  each  through  the  other. 

After  lying  a  little  while,  she  said  softly, 
against  his  cheek,  with  a  sigh:  "Oh,  dear! 
All  this  wouldn't  have  happened,  if " 

He  understood  what  she  meant,  and  passed 
his  disengaged  hand  across  his  forehead. 
"No,"  he  said,  "it  wouldn't."  And  at  the 
words  they  both  saw  Norby  and  the  rich  men 
as  the  powers  of  evil  against  which  their  in- 
dignation might  rise;  and  instead  of  feeling 
themselves  guilty,  they  began  to  feel  them- 
selves as  a  kind  of  champions  of  right  and 
truth.  For  him  especially  it  was  so  good  to 


242  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

hear  this  from  her;  for  now  she  no  longer 
doubted  either. 

Outside,  the  spring  night  was  passing 
slowly.  They  could  hear  the  sound  of  rain 
on  the  doorstep,  and  of  the  brook  that  ran 
down  past  their  house  from  the  little  valley. 

She  had  been  lying  some  time  looking  at 
the  window,  when  she  said:  "Perhaps 
Haarstad's  widow  was  pressed  into  making 
that  declaration  too!" 

"Yes!"  said  he,  stretching  himself. 

This  suspicion  of  his,  that  she  had  abhorred 
before,  she  now  felt  a  desire  to  cling  to;  there 
was  a  relief,  a  kind  of  acquittal  in  it. 

They  tried  to  close  their  eyes  and  be  silent, 
but  neither  of  them  could  sleep,  and  both 
wanted  to  go  on  listening  to  their  defence. 

"Well,  now  they'll  go  to  America,  most  of 
the  work-people,"  he  said,  and  left  her  to  say 
the  rest. 

And  in  a  little  while  she  said:  "All  those 
who  can  work  are  likely  to  go,  when  things 
are  managed  as  they  are  here." 

He  felt  such  pleasure  and  comfort  every 
time  she  said  what  he  had  so  often  said.  She 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  243 

was  quite  on  his  side  at  last.  At  last  she, 
too,  felt  convinced. 

"And  you  had  thought  of  establishing  a 
pension  fund  for  them,  too,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  if  I  could  only  have  gone  on." 

"And  how  well  the  working  men  lived!  1 
remember  when  their  wives  brought  them  their 
meals  how  pleased  and  happy  they  looked!" 

"Yes,  it's  different  now,"  said  he.  ii 

The  night  was  very  long;  but  they  kept 
close  to  one  another,  and  talked  at  intervals 
about  the  same  thing,  as  if  it  were  a  fire  that 
had  to  be  kept  up.  She  even  ventured  to  say: 
"Don't  you  think  people  would  have  got 
pretty  good  interest  on  their  money,  if  only 
you  could  have  gone  on  in  peace?" 

"Yes,  of  course!  Why,  it  was  improving 
all  the  time — until  the  rich  men  grew 
frightened." 

"Yes,  I  haven't  understood  until  now 
what  a  disappointment  it  must  have  been  for 
you,"  she  said  with  feeling;  and  burying  her 
head  in  his  shoulder  she  whispered:  "Can  you 
forgive  me,  Henry?  I  haven't  been  what  I 
should  have  been." 


244  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

He  was  touched.  "Forgive?"  he  said. 
"Why,  I've  nothing  to  forgive!  You've  been 
so  clever,  Karen,  and  have  had  so  much  to 
see  to.  But  I'll  help  you  now." 

"Don't  talk  like  that,  Henry!  I  see  now 
that  you  must  have  felt  paralysed." 

Thus  the  night  passed.  They  talked  them- 
selves more  and  more  together,  and  found 
their  own  confidence  in  one  another.  They 
both  felt  haunted  by  the  dark,  cold  responsi- 
bility, and  fled  hand  in  hand  towards  the  land 
of  innocence. 


CHAPTER 


THE  spring  was  early  this  year,  and  when 
Pastor  Borring  went  up  the  avenue  to  Norby 
Farm  at  the  beginning  of  May,  the  trees  were 
in  leaf,  and  a  strong  scent  of  leaves  and  grass 
filled  the  air.  The  priest  carried  a  bag  in  his 
hand.  He  was  going  on  a  sick  visit  to  Lars 
Eleven  up  on  the  hill. 

Many  of  the  young  trees  in  the  avenue  were 
torn  up  or  broken  off,  as  if  after  a  hurricane  ; 
but  it  was  after  the  working  men's  procession 
to  Norby  on  the  first  of  May. 

When  the  priest  came  to  the  garden,  he  saw 
Nbrby  inside  the  fence  in  a  white  working 
coat,  busy  with  some  trees.  The  priest 
stopped  and  fell  into  conversation  with  him. 

"It  looks  dreadful  after  the  demonstrators," 
said  he,  with  a  shake  of  the  head.  "Upon  my 
word,  it's  not  only  the  consul's  standing 
drinks  that  has  fooled  them;  there  must  have 
been  some  one  or  other  who  has  dealt  out 
mental  strong  drinks  too/' 

245 


246  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

Norby  looked  surprised,  but  laughed  as  he 
leaned  upon  his  spade.  "The  workmen?"  he 
said.  "They  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  dam- 
age in  the  grounds.  The  wind  did  that  one 
night." 

The  priest  looked  a  little  sheepish,  and  soon 
went  on  his  way.  That  Norby  had  a  peculiar 
way  of  being  proud!  He  was  so  terribly 
afraid  that  any  one  should  pity  him. 

The  path  up  the  hill  was  muddy  after  the 
rain  in  the  night,  but  the  leaves  of  the  trees 
and  the  green  slopes  were  glistening  in  the 
sun.  Brooks  ran  noisily  towards  the  fjord, 
and  in  the  fields  round  about  men  and  horses 
were  busy  harrowing. 

At  last  the  priest  had  mounted  the  last  hill, 
on  which  stood  the  little  cottage.  Dwelling- 
house  and  cow-shed  together  formed  one  build- 
ing; it  would  be  difficult  to  know  the  one  from 
the  other,  were  it  not  for  the  porch  at  one  end, 
and  two  small  windows  at  each  side.  The 
steps  were  washed  and  the  stones  strewn  with 
fir  twigs,  because  the  priest  was  expected. 

He  had  to  stoop  to  enter.  The  ceiling  was 
low,  too,  so  that  he  had  to  keep  his  head  bent. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  247 

A  saucepan  of  water  was  steaming  on  the  fire, 
the  floor  was  white  and  strewn  with  fir  twigs, 
the  wife  was  sitting  dressed  in  her  best  with  a 
hymn-book  in  her  hand,  and  in  bed,  beneath 
an  old  skin  coverlet,  lays*  Lars  Kleven,  in 
a  shirt  so  white  that  it  must  have  been  put  on 
at  the  moment  the  priest  was  seen  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  hill.  The  priest  first  shook  hands 
with  the  wife,  and  then  went  to  the  bed. 

"And  how  are  you,  my  dear  Lars?" 

Lars  said  nothing,  pressed  his  lips  together, 
and  looked  at  the  priest.  It  was  his  wife  who 
answered. 

"Oh,  mercy!  How  frightened  I  was  that 
he'd  be  gone  before  the  priest  came!" 

The  priest  took  the  old  man's  hand.  It 
was  as  hard  as  horn,  and  quite  cold.  The 
furrowed,  weather-beaten  face  was  motion- 
less, and  the  old  eyes  looked  up  dully.  Now 
and  then  his  mouth  moved,  for  he  still  had 
his  quid  to  chew.  The  pastor  sat  down. 

"Are  you  afraid  to  die,  my  dear  Lars?" 

It  was  again  the  wife  that  answered. 

"He  has  something  to  confess  to  you,"  she 
said. 


248  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"Indeed?"  The  priest  looked  kindly  at  the 
old  man  in  the  bed. 

The  dying  man  suddenly  surprised  him  by 
sending  a  squirt  of  tobacco- juice  out  of  his 
mouth  on  to  the  floor.  "It  was  about  the  in- 
quiry," he  then  said,  looking  anxiously  at  the 
priest. 

"Oh!     Between  Wangen  and  Norby?" 

"He  wanted  to  go  and  give  evidence,"  said 
the  wife;  "but  he  hadn't  the  courage  to  give 
evidence  against  Norby." 

The  priest  looked  expectantly  at  Lars,  who 
kept  his  eyes  all  the  time  anxiously  on  him, 
still  chewing  his  quid. 

"Do  you  think  there's  pardon  for  me?"  he 
asked  at  length. 

"Yes.     Why  not?"     The  priest  smiled. 

"When  I  didn't  go  and  give  evidence  to 
the  truth,  even  though  God  told  me  to?" 

"Are  you  sure  you  knew  the  truth  then, 
Lars?" 

"He  went  with  Norby  to  town  that  time 
when  he  signed  the  paper,"  said  the  wife,  who 
now  stood  by  the  table  with  her  hymn-book 
in  front  of  her,  looking  anxiously  at  the  priest. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  249 

Pastor  Borring  sat  looking  at  the  floor  for 
a  little  while. 

"And  now  he  thinks  there's  no  pardon  for 
him,"  said  the  wife,  wiping  her  eyes.  "But 
I  tell  him  that  Christ  died  for  that  sin  too." 

The  priest  still  looked  down  at  the  floor, 
but  he  felt  the  eyes  of  the  dying  man  eagerly 
fixed  upon  him,  and  he  knew  that  he  must 
answer  when  he  met  those  eyes. 

If  Pastor  Borring  had  been  alone  and  un- 
influenced by  the  moment,  he  would  have 
answered:  "Even  if  Christ  died  for  your  sins, 
and  even  if  you  get  to  heaven,  Wangen  may 
suffer  just  as  much  in  consequence  of  your 
sin."  He  had  it  in  his  mind  to  say  it,  too,  but 
it  was  another  matter  to  look  up  and  meet 
the  old,  frightened  eyes. 

"Do  you  think  there's  pardon  for  me?"  came 
at  last  from  the  bed;  and  the  priest  had  to 
answer. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  looking  up. 

"Will  you  pray  for  me?"  said  Lars,  turn- 
ing his  quid  in  his  mouth.  The  priest  rose 
and  folded  his  hands;  but  what  should  he 
pray?  He  thought  of  Wangen.  But  the  sun 


250  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

shone  brightly  in  upon  the  fir-strewn  floor, 
throwing  a  few  beams  across  the  old  skin 
coverlet  and  on  the  old  man's  shirt.  It  was 
like  a  message  from  Him  who  shines  upon 
the  good  and  the  evil,  thought  the  priest,  and 
there  was  such  poverty  and  helplessness  in  this 
little  cottage,  and  the  two  poor  old  people 
filled  him  with  a  desire  to  be  merciful,  and 
he  began  to  pray  God  to  be  merciful. 

When  he  ended,  the  wife  was  crying,  and 
the  old  man  lay  with  his  hands  folded  upon 
the  coverlet  and  the  tears  running  down  his 
cheeks.  When  the  priest  sat  down,  he  said: 
"Will  you  give  me  the  sacrament?" 

The  priest  rose  mechanically  and  opened  his 
bag.  He  heard  the  swallows  flying  past  the 
window  outside  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  star- 
ling that  had  its  nest  up  under  the  eaves.  It 
was  like  another  message  to  tell  him  that  life 
was  greater  than  man's  idea  of  right  and 
wrong. 

When  he  stood  ready  in  his  priest's  robes, 
after  pouring  the  wine  into  the  chalice  he  had 
brought  with  him,  he  said  with  bowed  head': 
"Listen,  Lars.  The  trial  is  next  week.  Won't 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  251 

you  ask  your  wife  to  go  and  give  evidence  for 
you?  I  can  confirm  what  you  have  now  con- 
fessed." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  old  man,  looking  long- 
ingly at  the  chalice.  The  wife  sighed  upon 
her  bench,  but  came  up  and  took  the  quid  out 
of  her  husband's  mouth,  and  laid  it  on  the 
window-sill. 

When  the  priest  had  given  the  sacrament, 
and  had  packed  up  his  gown  again,  he  sat 
a  little  longer  by  the  dying  man's  bedside. 
It  seemed  as  if  Lars  had  only  kept  up  in  ex- 
pectation of  the  sacrament  and  the  forgiveness 
of  his  sins,  and  that  he  now  suddenly  began  to 
sink.  Once  he  opened  his  eyes  and  turned 
them  upon  his  wife.  She  understood  him,  and 
took  the  half -chewed  quid  from  the  window- 
sill  and  put  it  into  his  mouth;  and  Lars 
looked  at  her,  as  much  as  to  say:  "Yes,  that 
was  it." 

The  priest  rose,  and  was  taking  his  de- 
parture, when  the  dying  man  looked  once 
more  at  the  priest  and  then  affectionately  at 
his  wife,  and  whispered:  "Oh  no!  She  mustn't 


252*  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

be  made  to  go  and  give  evidence,  for  he'd  take 
the  cottage  from  her  if  she  does." 

"Very  well/'  said  the  priest  a  little  un- 
certainly, as  he  paused. 

Old  Lars  smiled  with  content  at  finding 
that  every  prospect  had  brightened  so  won- 
derfully, both  for  time  and  eternity;  and  he 
settled  himself  deeper  into  his  pillow.  He 
then  wanted  to  raise  his  head  as  if  to  spit,  but 
could  not ;  the  tobacco  stuck  in  his  throat,  and 
he  coughed;  and  the  cough  became  a  dying 
rattle,  and  after  a  moment  that  too  ceased. 

His  wife  stood  some  time  gazing  at  him,  and 
then  went  resolutely  up  and  closed  his  eyes. 
She  then  turned  to  the  priest.  "Thank  God!" 
she  said  with  emotion.  "Now  I  know  that 
Lars  died  saved." 

On  his  way  homewards  with  his  bag  in  his 
hand  the  priest  stopped  on  the  hill,  and  sit- 
ting down  on  a  stone,  rested  his  chin  in  his 
hand,  and  looked  out  over  the  parish. 

Whenever  Pastor  Borring  had  imparted 
forgiveness  of  sins  he  was  always  unhappy; 
for  in  the  first  place  he  did  not  feel  that  God 
had  charged  him  with  the  forgiveness  of  sins, 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  253 

and  in  the  second  he  did  not  believe  in  the 
notion  of  forgiveness.  And  yet  in  the  course 
of  time  he  had  laid  his  hand  in  church  upon 
the  heads  of  thousands,  and  lied  this  dangerous 
comfort  into  their  souls. 

And  now  he  was  sitting  here,  unhappy  once 
more.  He  had  never  felt  more  distinctly  than 
now  how  altogether  meaningless  it  was  to 
pardon,  to  forgive.  If  (God  forgave  Lars 
Kleven,  was  He  also  to  pardon  on  Wangen's 
behalf?  Wangen  would  perhaps  be  unjustly 
condemned,  in  spite  of  the  pardon.  And 
Wangen's  family,  who  were  the  sufferers? 

No,  a  wicked  action  is  a  thing  that  is  set 
in  motion  and  perhaps  never  stops.  It  ap- 
pears in  consequences  and  the  consequences  of 
those  consequences;  it  spreads  like  an  infec- 
tious disease,  and  no  one  knows  when  or  how 
it  will  cease.  Even  if  it  is  lost  to  sight,  it 
still  goes  on  its  way.  Who  will  pardon  here? 
God?  Is  it  His  duty  to  pardon  it  on  the 
behalf  of  innocent  persons? 

Thus  thought  Pastor  Borring  as  he  sat.  On 
his  way  home  he  felt  saddened  and  ashamed, 


254  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

as  he  so  often  did  during  the  performance  of 
an  act  from  which  he  did  not  feel  strong 
enough  to  free  himself. 

But  what  was  he  to  do  now?     The  con- 
fessions of  a  dying  man  are  sacred. 


CHAPTER  V 

FRU  WANGEN  had  been  impatient  for  the 
demonstration  to  take  place.  The  means  that 
she  had  despised  in  her  husband,  she  herself 
now  felt  a  sudden  desire  to  resort  to,  like  a 
person  in  despair,  who  gropes  about  for  any- 
thing he  can  lay  hands  on. 

But  after  the  day  when  the  consul  had 
secretly  made  the  demonstrators  drunk,  so 
that  they  frightened  the  whole  district  with 
their  behaviour,  both  Wangen  and  his  wife 
saw  that  these  allies  of  theirs  had  once  more 
injured  their  cause;  for  the  whole  district  was 
quite  sure  that  Wangen  was  at  the  back  of  it 
all,  and  even  Norby's  worst  enemies  began  to 
feel  sympathy  for  him  and  to  turn  from 
Wangen. 

As  the  trial  approached,  Wangen's  fear  of 
being  left  to  stand  alone  became  greater  and 
greater.  It  was  witnesses  that  he  must  have, 
and  now  he  no  longer  relied  upon  witnesses, 

255 


256  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

for  he  had  a  suspicion  that  every  one  hated 
him. 

At  night,  when  he  lay  and  polished  up  his 
innocence,  he  saw  more  and  more  vividly  that 
scene  at  the  Grand,  when  the  document  was 
signed.  At  first  he  had  not  been  quite  sure 
that  it  was  there;  but  as  he  had  said  it  once, 
it  was  most  probable ;  and  the  of tener  he  said 
it,  the  more  certain  he  became  that  it  was  there 
and  nowhere  else.  He  now  even  remembered 
the  corner  they  had  sat  in.  There  were  Norby, 
Haarstad  and  himself,  and  they  were  drinking 
coffee  after  dinner.  But  was  there  no  one 
else?  Suppose  there  had  been  some  one  else 
who  had  seen  it  all! 

He  conjured  up  this  scene  more  and  more 
vividly,  as  if  it  had  some  hidden  power  that 
might  suddenly  make  its  appearance  and  be 
his  salvation.  He  seemed  to  sit  there,  and 
even  to  feel  the  taste  of  the  strong  coif ee.  He 
saw  people  at  the  neighbouring  tables,  while 
Norby  signed.  The  cigar-smoke  lay  in  layers 
in  the  air,  the  waiters  ran  about  with  napkins 
under  their  arms,  counted  money,  and  drew 
corks.  Glasses  jingled,  people  laughed  and 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  257 

made  a  noise,  and  conversation  filled  the  cafe. 
And  here  sat  the  three,  and  signed  their 
names.  But  was  there  actually  no  fourth 
man? 

He  began  to  have  a  suspicion  that  there 
had  been  one  more,  just  because  he  so 
earnestly  wished  it.  But  perhaps  they  had 
bought  him  too.  This  thought  angered  him. 
It  should  be  brought  to  light.  He  went  on 
seeing  the  hands  writing,  and  the  people  round 
looking  on.  He  even  saw  it  when  he  slept ;  he 
saw  it  when  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  any  one 
he  was  speaking  to.  This  was  the  scene  that 
had  to  be  proved,  and  it  therefore  appeared 
in  a  feverish  light,  the  more  helpless  he  felt 
himself.  At  last  he  really  began  to  have  a 
consciousness  that  there  had  actually  been  a 
fourth  man  close  by.  At  first  it  was  only  like 
a  shadow  on  the  wall;  but  the  shadow  ac- 
quired eyes  that  looked  on  while  Norby 
signed.  It  acquired  a  voice  that  said:  "Yes, 
I  saw  it;  but  I  will  not  interfere  in  the  matter 
now/'  Indeed?  But  he  would  have  to.  He 
should  be  brought  to  light,  no  matter  how  well 
he  had  been  paid  for  not  interfering. 


258  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

Wangen  became  more  and  more  eager  to  pro- 
duce him  as  the  trial  pressed  closer  upon  him. 

One  day  he  had  again  met  the  tailor  with 
the  mad  eyes,  and  lay  awake  at  night.  He 
then  saw  this  unknown  form  more  vividly 
than  ever;  it  resisted  and  would  not  advance, 
but  it  would  have  to,  by  Jove  it  would!  And 
although  Wangen  again  and  again  felt  im- 
pelled to  cuff  himself  and  say  that  he  was 
mad,  he  could  not  but  wish,  hope  and  cling 
to  this  new  possibility,  which  would  perhaps 
save  him  at  the  last  moment. 

One  day  he  told  his  wife  about  it,  and  she 
became  excited  and  encouraged  him  almost 
fiercely.  As  she  questioned  him  more  closely, 
and  he  had  to  answer  with  probable  reasons, 
it  came  to  be  some  one  whom  he  did  not  yet 
quite  recollect:  it  was  several  years  ago.  But 
to  sit  and  talk  about  this  person  became  a 
strengthening  draught  to  them  both.  At  last 
one  evening,  when  they  had  once  more  been 
sitting  and  talking  about  it,  and  Wangen  had 
been  burrowing  for  some  time  in  his  memory, 
he  suddenly  sprang  up,  crying:  "I  have  him!" 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  259 

"Henry!"  exclaimed  his  wife  with  a  little 
cry,  also  rising. 

"It  was  Rasmus  Brodersen." 

"Oh,  thank  God!"  she  panted,  with  her 
hands  upon  her  breast. 

But  Rasmus  Brodersen  was  in  America. 
Wangen  believed,  however,  that  one  of  the 
letters  from  him  was  on  this  subject. 

He  got  out  his  packet  of  letters,  and  began 
to  read  through  all  letters  from  this  old  school- 
friend  of  his.  He  did  not  find  it  that  evening. 
It  was  possible  it  might  have  been  lost. 

The  excitement  and  tension  of  these  hours 
made  Fru  Wangen  quite  ill.  She  wanted  to 
sit  up  at  night,  but  he  wanted  to  wait  until 
the  following  day;  and  as  he  seated  himself 
with  fresh  packets  of  letters  the  next  morning, 
he  thought:  "She'll  be  beside  herself  if  I  don't 
find  anything  to-day." 

At  about  dinner-time  she  came  in  to  him 
in  the  bedroom  where  he  was  sitting,  and  asked 
for  the  twentieth  time:  "Well?" 

"There  should  still  be  another  packet  some- 
where or  other,"  he  said,  scratching  his  head; 


260  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

and  he  began  to  rummage  every  receptacle 
to  find  it. 

"It  must  be  in  this  last  packet!"  she 
thought;  and  she  determined  to  leave  him  in 
peace,  and  let  him  come  himself  and  tell  her. 
And  while  she  waited  for  this  salvation  for 
them  both,  she  suddenly  regained  her  pride 
and  peace  of  mind.  She  went  on  her  errands 
up  to  the  farm,  tall,  with  slow  steps,  bare- 
headed in  the  sun,  her  hair  like  a  crown  above 
the  pale,  beautiful  face.  Perhaps  after  all 
her  husband's  enemies  would  be  disappointed. 

That  day  was  the  first  on  which  she  had 
not  thought:  "I  wonder  how  little  Bias  is 
now!"  And  as  regarded  her  father — it  was 
a  great  trouble  and  sorrow,  but  it  no  longer 
caused  a  bad  conscience. 

At  dinner-time  she  went  and  listened  at 
his  door.  She  heard  the  rustling  of  paper, 
but  she  dared  not  disturb  him  to  say  that 
dinner  was  ready,  although  she  had  got  some 
unusually  good  meat  to-day,  that  she  knew 
he  would  like. 

At  last  he  came  out,  quite  pleased  and 
satisfied.  He  had  not  found  it  yet,  but  he 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  261 

was  so  sure  that  he  would  have  it  before  the 
evening.  The  decided  promise  nearly  turned 
her  head  with  joy.  Sleepless  nights  and  emo- 
tion had  unhinged  her,  and  while  they  dined 
she  was  childishly  gay.  Oh  no,  he  should  be 
let  off  having  to  tell  her,  if  only  it  came  to 
light  that  evening ;  and  she  drank  to  his  health 
in  water,  and  put  her  finger  in  his  glass  to 
change  his  water  into  wine  for  him ;  and  while 
she  laughed  over  this,  the  tears  stood  in  her 
eyes. 

She  was  on  thorns  all  the  afternoon ;  but  he 
had  asked  to  be  left  alone,  and  he  should  be. 

At  last  he  opened  the  door,  and  said,  smil- 
ing: "Here  it  is,  Karen!" 

Once  more  she  started  up  with  the  cry  of 
"Henry!"  Then  she  ran  to  him,  seized  the 
paper  from  him,  and  began  to  run  through 
it.  Ah,  yes !  It  was  written  a  couple  of  years 
ago,  and  mentioned  a  good  dinner,  and  further 
on — yes,  there  it  was!  There  it  was! 

She  hung  upon  his  neck,  took  his  head  be- 
tween her  hands  and  held  it  from  her  while 
she  murmured:  "Why  don't  you  kiss  me? 
Why  don't  you  fly  up  to  the  ceiling?  Oh,  I 


262  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

shall  faint!"  She  had  to  take  the  paper  to 
read  it  onoe  more.  But — but — a  cold  shiver 
suddenly  ran  through  her.  This  handwrit- 
ing— it — it  was  so  suspiciously  like  Wangen's 
own.  She  looked  quickly  up  at  him,  but  she 
dared  not  say  anything. 

"When  I  produce  this  in  court,"  he  said, 
smiling,  "I  think  it  will  be  enough." 

"Yes,  of  course,  Henry."  She  still  laughed 
with  delight,  but  was  obliged  to  sit  down. 
"What  has  he  done?"  she  thought,  sitting 
and  gazing  straight  before  her.  "God  help 
me!"  Everything  seemed  to  crumble  to 
pieces,  and  she  gazed  into  his  guilt  in  every- 
thing, in  everything!  But  this  could  not  be !  It 
must  not,  must  not  be!  She  might  have  made 
a  mistake.  She  would  not  look  at  the  letter 
any  more,  and  she  gave  it  back  to  him  with  a 
smile,  and  begged  him  to  take  good  care  of  it. 
It  might  perhaps  help  him  a  little,  only  a  little ; 
for  he  must  be  let  off. 

That  evening,  when  they  were  in  bed,  she 
said:  "You  don't  write  any  more  in  the  papers 
now,  Henry,  but  I  think  it  might  very  well 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  263 

come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  public  how  the 
pastor  and  Thora  have  behaved  to  us." 

"Yes/5  he  said;  "and  it  might  be  a  good 
thing  if  it  were  read  by  the  jurymen,  too, 
before  they  went  to  pass  verdict  on  me." 

And  they  tried  to  sleep,  with  hands 
interclasped. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A.  MAN  was  coming  down  the  hills  from  the 
north,  and  stopped  at  Norby  Sseter,  at  the 
door  of  which  Einar  was  sitting  making  a 
birch  broom. 

While  the  stranger  lay  full  length  upon  the 
grass,  his  head  resting  on  his  wallet,  he  re- 
lated how  he  had  met  a  she-bear  and  two  cubs 
west  of  the  Great  Snow-field.  As  news  from 
the  valley,  he  mentioned  that  Wangen's  trial 
was  to  take  place  that  day. 

"Indeed?"  said  Einar,  and  went  on  with  his 
birch  broom. 

He  rowed  the  man  across  the  mountain 
lake,  for  he  was  going  west  and  down  into 
the  other  valley.  Einar  heard  that  the  doc- 
tor's twenty-year-old  daughter  had  come  up 
to  Buvik  Saeter,  and  this  awakened  pleasant 
recollections  of  the  ball  at  Christmas. 

He  had  lived  here  for  a  month  in  delightful 
quiet.  For  company  he  had  the  old  dairy- 
maid, the  dog  and  the  cattle.  He  was  to  drink 

264 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  265 

milk,  go  for  walks,  keep  his  feet  dry,  and 
sleep  and  eat  well.  And  day  after  day  he 
plodded  about  in  wooden  shoes  and  frieze 
clothes  like  any  peasant.  It  was  splendid! 

But  now  his  peace  was  destroyed.  The 
news  of  the  trial  had  cut  like  a  knife.  Old 
wounds  were  reopened,  and  he  felt  a  despair 
approaching,  which  he  was  not  equal  to 
bearing,  and  to  which  he  involuntarily  rose  ill 
opposition,  in  order  to  dismiss  it.  Had  he  not 
suffered  enough  in  this  matter? 

At  night,  when  he  lay  sleepless,  he  repre- 
sented to  himself  how  good  his  father  had 
always  been;  but  as  that  did  not  feel  suffi- 
cient, he  resorted  to  the  young  girl  who  was 
also  up  in  the  mountains  now  at  sceter.  How 
pretty  she  had  been  last  Christmas  when  they 
danced  together!  People  whispered  and 
pointed  at  them.  But  why  had  he  thought  so 
little  about  her  since?  "I'm  too  old- 
fashioned,"  he  thought;  "I  live  in  books  and 
great  ideas,  and  meanwhile  the  good  years  are 
passing,  and  I  haven't  lived  the  life  of  youth. 
But  there  is  sunshine  in  the  world,  too,  thank 
goodness." 


266  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

These  thoughts  helped  him  to  make  the 
young  girl's  stay  in  the  mountains  still  more 
important,  and  at  length  he  fell  asleep  in  the 
middle  of  a  dance  with  her,  just  as  at 
Christmas. 

The  day  following,  when  he  went  for  a  walk 
over  the  hill,  he  frequently  stopped  to  look  at 
Buvik  Sseter.  It  lay  on  the  other  side  of  the 
lake  just  below  the  snow-field,  at  a  distance 
of  some  three  or  four  miles.  "Perhaps  he's 
already  in  prison"  was  the  thought  that  cut 
through  him;  but  he  still  looked  up  oftener 
and  oftener  towards  Buvik  Saeter,  which  had 
now  acquired  much  greater  importance  than 
before.  Smoke  was  rising  from  the  little  grey 
houses.;  perhaps  she  was  preparing  her 
dinner. 

As  the  days  passed,  his  thoughts  were 
continually  occupied  with  the  young  girl,  as 
he  then  had  no  time  to  think  of  anything  un- 
pleasant or  painful.  He  was  no  longer 
alone;  there  were  he  and  she,  they  two  alone 
in  the  mountains.  Two  eyes  always  seemed  to 
be  resting  on  him  from  something  beautiful 
close  by.  They  were  so  near  one  another. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  267 

because  they  were  many  miles  from  the  valley. 
He  might  go  there  on  a  visit,  but  he  would 
prefer  that  they  should  meet  by  chance,  per- 
haps down  on  the  lake. 

He  often  fished  along  the  shore  on  the  other 
side,  but  he  never  saw  her;  and  when  he 
rowed  home  he  laughed  at  himself  for  actually 
being  disappointed  and  sad. 

He  had  to  keep  her  continually  in  his 
thoughts  in  order  to  feel  quite  calm.  The 
mountains  seemed  to  acquire  a  peculiar 
grandeur.  One  evening  he  rowed  out  to  a 
little  island  and  lighted  a  large  bonfire;  but 
still  no  boat  came  rowing  out;  only  the  silent 
shores  looked  on.  He  no  longer  went  about 
in  wooden  shoes,  however;  and  he  always  took 
care  that  his  shirt  and  his  hands  were  clean. 
Not  because  he  expected  any  one,  but  because 
there  was  always  something  beautiful  within 
him,  for  which  he  had  to  adorn  himself. 

At  last  one  day  a  man  came  up  from  the 
valley  with  a  pack-horse,  and  before  Einar 
could  pervent  him,  he  had  told  him  that 
Wangen  was  sentenced  to  a  year's  hard 
labour.  The  punishment  had  been  increased 


268  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

because  he  had  produced  a  forged  letter  in 
court. 

Einar  sat  on  the  doorstep  and  heard  this. 
He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  sat 
motionless. 

"And  I  think  of  going  on  with  my  studies! 
I,  who  can  never  look  any  one  in  the  face 
again!" 

It  was  a  beautiful  day,  with  a  clear  sky 
above  the  brown  moors  and  distant  blue 
mountain  ridges,  and  the  snow-fields  lay  shin- 
ing like  silver  in  the  sun. 

In  the  evening  Einar  wei*^  flown  to  the  lake 
and  pushed  off  the  boat.  He  had  thought  for 
a  time  that  the  whole  world  was  extinguished, 
and  that  he  ought  to  jump  into  the  water  be- 
cause he  was  too  full  of  shame  to  live.  But 
from  force  of  habit  he  once  more  recalled  the 
young  girl  to  his  mind;  and*just  because  he 
himself  now  stood  so  immeasurably  low,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  she  stood  high — high,  and 
stretched  out  her  hands  to  rescue  him.  He 
rowed  slowly  over  the  smooth  water,  in 
the  middle  of  which  the  red  sky  was  reflected. 
Twilight  enveloped  the  silent  shores  in  a 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  269 

light  haze.  The  houses  and  the  green  fold 
of  Norby  Saeter  were  reflected  in  the  water, 
and  in  the  wake  of  the  boat  lay  two  rows  of 
rings  in  the  water,  left  by  the  dip  of  his  oars. 

Gradually  he  seemed  to  enter  a  peaceful 
land,  and  at  last  he  shipped  the  oars  and  let 
the  boat  drift.  Gradually  the  world  grew 
large  and  radiant.  The  moors  looked  at  him 
and  smiled.  Everybody  was  happy  in  tKe 
main. 

"Good  heavens!"  he  thought.  "Now  I'm 
beginning  to  understand  what  love  is/' 


CHAPTER  VII 

ONE  Saturday  afternoon,  Thora  of  Lidarende 
went  out  towards  the  sound.  It  was  in  hay- 
making time,  and  the  mowers  were  on  the  hills, 
making  the  hay  into  cocks  for  the  evening. 
The  fresh  scent  of  hay  was  wafted  through  the 
air.  Lake  Mjosen  lay  still  and  clear,  so  that 
Fru  Thora  could  see  the  stony  bottom  a  long 
way  out. 

She  turned  up  the  avenue  to  the  big  parish 
school  building,  entered  the  yard,  and  hastened 
up  the  steps,  for  there  were  others  she  must 
manage  to  call  on  to-day. 

Although  the  principal  was  occupied  for  the 
time  being  with  some  pupils  in  dialect,  his  wife 
went  and  fetched  him  when  she  heard  that 
Fru  Thora  had  come  on  an  important  errand ; 
and  soon  they  were  all  three  sitting  round  a 
table  in  the  large,  comfortable  drawing-room, 
with  port  wine  in  front  of  them. 

Principal  Heggen  was  a  man  of  about 
fifty  years  of  age,  with  a  bald  head,  a  long 

270 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  271 

brown  beard,  and  spectacles.  He  had  a  fine, 
high  forehead,  and  nice  eyes.  He  was  well 
known  for  his  kind  disposition,  and  as  he  was 
most  unsuspecting,  he  loved  many  things.  As 
regarded  religion,  he  was  a  warm  advocate  of 
a  national  Christianity. 

"Yes,  I've  come  on  an  important  errand 
to-day,"  said  Fru  Thora,  sipping  her  glass. 

Both  the  schoolmaster  and  his  wife  looked 
attentively  at  her.  She  continued  with  a 
smile,  as  she  looked  from  the  one  to  the  other: 

"It's  in  connection  with  recent  events.  It 
has  been  a  sad  time,  and  a  disgrace  to  the 
district." 

"Yes,"  said  Fru  Heggen,  shaking  her  head 
as  she  knitted. 

"But  we  who  sit  here  have  got  off  fairly 
well.  I  only  got  sneered  at  a  little  in  the 
papers  because  I  was  rude  enough  to  wish  to 
take  one  of  their  children  for  a  time ;  and  you, 
Heggen,  have  been  found  fault  with  because 
you  remained  neutral."  Fru  Thora  could  not 
help  laughing. 

"Poor  man!"  said  the  schoolmaster,  playing 
with  his  beard. 


272  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"Ye-es!  It's  hard  on  him,  and  we  won't 
judge  Wangen,"  said  she,  "but  as  long  as  we 
live  in  an  orderly  community,  I  suppose  we 
have  the  right  to  some  protection;  and  it 
doesn't  do  to  go  on  as  Wangen  has  done." 

Fru  Heggen  shook  her  head  once  more,  said 
"No,"  and  looked  at  her  husband. 

"But  the  person  who  has  suffered  most  dur- 
ing this  time,  dear  friends,  is  Norby;  and  I've 
come  to  propose  that  we  make  him  some  repa- 
ration in  one  form  or  another." 

Heggen  rose,  and  left  the  table  in  order  to 
fill  himself  a  pipe,  which  he  slowly  lighted,  and 
then  returned  to  the  table  and  seated  himself. 
Out  of  doors  the  sun  was  beginning  to  set,  and 
sent  golden  beams  in  to  them  through  the  tree- 
tops  in  the  garden. 

"Well,  what  did  you  think  of  doing?"  Heg- 
gen finally  asked,  while  he  endeavoured  to 
make  his  pipe  draw. 

Fru  Thora  coloured  a  little.  She  had  ex- 
pected that  she  would  meet  with  opposition 
here,  so  she  had  come  here  first.  She  braced 
herself,  and  continued  courageously: 

"Well,  we  see  what  our  great  politicians,  for 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  273 

instance,  do  when  one  of  their  number  has  been 
exposed  to  unjust  attacks.  They  give  him  a 
banquet.  And  I  think  we  might  give  a  little 
festive  entertainment  for  Norby;  it  might  be 
as  simple  as  possible." 

Heggen  and  his  wife  looked  at  one  another. 

"Ye-es,"  said  he;  but  with  a  slightly  embar- 
rassed smile. 

There  was  a  short  pause,  which  Fru  Thora 
dared  not  allow  to  become  too  long. 

"With  reference  to  the  heart  of  the  matter," 
she  said,  "you,  too,  believe,  do  you  not,  that 
Norby  was  altogether  in  the  right?" 

"Yes,"  said  Heggen,  shaking  his  head  a  lit- 
tle. There  seemed  to  be  something  he  would 
not  say. 

"Yes,"  said  Fru  Heggen,  too;  "he's  said 
from  the  very  first  that  Wangen  was  guilty, 
and  Heggen  has  a  wonderful  power  of  judg- 
ment in  such  cases." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Fru  Thora,  "I  hope  you 
won't  let  old  disagreements  stand  in  the  way 
this  time.  We  ought  really  to  begin  to  ap- 
preciate the  worth  of  others  than  those  we  al- 
ways agree  with." 


274  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"Oh  dear  yes!"  said  Heggen  eagerly.  "But 
who  did  you  think  of  asking  to  join?" 

Fru  Thora  laid  her  pretty  hand  upon  the 
table,  as  if  to  give  more  emphasis  to  her  words. 

"All  who  wish  to.  The  authorities,  peas- 
ants— all  without  difference.  Wouldn't  it  be 
nice  if  Government  officers  and  country  peo- 
ple for  once  joined  hands  and  said:  'One  of 
our  best  men  has  been  persecuted,  and  his 
name  sullied;  here  we  are,  and  we  will  join 
hands  and  wash  him  clean  again.'  An  exam- 
ple should  really  be  set  to  show  that  Chris- 
tianity and  national  feeling  are  not  mere 
words,  but  that  we  actually  help  a  brother 
when  he  is  in  need." 

"Has  Norby  taken  it  to  heart?"  asked  Heg- 
gen, with  a  look  of  sympathy. 

"I  don't  know;  he  is  so  proud,  that  man.  He 
certainly  doesn't  complain.  But  now,  to-day, 
my  brother  in  Bergen  wrote  to  me  and  asked 
if  it  were  really  true  that  Norby  had  defraud- 
ed the  widow  for  whom  he's  trustee!  That's 
the  way  ill-natured  remarks  spread;  and  how 
much  wouldn't  a  man  lose  by  such  things!" 

"Oh  yes,"  sighed  Fru  Heggen;  "there's  al- 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  275 

ways  some  one  ready  to  repeat  an  ill-natured 
thing." 

"And  there's  one  thing  we  must  be  all  agreed 
about,"  continued  Fru  Thora,  "and  that  is 
that  a  better  head  of  a  family  and  master  than 
Norby  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  district. 
Where  will  you  find  any  one  so  good  to  his  old 
servants  and  men?" 

The  schoolmaster  thought  it  over,  and  the 
warm  appreciation  of  Norby's  goodness  to  his 
farm-servants  touched  him  and  overcame  his 
last  scruples. 

"Well,  I'm  quite  willing  to  join,"  he  said. 
"But  who  is  to  make  the  speech?"  he  thought 
to  himself. 

"Yes,"  said  Fru  Thora,  taking  another  sip 
of  wine.  "But  you  aren't  going  to  be  let  off 
so  easily.  You  will  have  to  make  the  speech. 
No  one  can  do  it  so  well." 

"I?"  said  Heggen,  his  brow  flushing;  but 
he  finally  agreed.  If  a  few  words  were  to  be 
said  in  honour  of  Fru  Norby,  perhaps  Fru 
Thora  of  Lidarende  might  attempt  them. 

When  she  left,  she  felt  relieved  and  happy 
at  having  succeeded  here.  Now  the  rest  would 


276  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

be  easily  managed;  and  she  hastened  down  the 
avenue  as  briskly  as  a  young  girl,  while  the 
last  rays  of  the  sun  fell  through  the  leaves 
upon  her  light  dress. 

With  no  suspicion  off  Fru  Thora's  plan, 
Knut  Norby  was  sitting  that  day  hard  at  work 
with  his  accounts.  He  had  at  last  fallen  again 
into  his  old  ways.  He  had  wasted  so  much 
time  on  all  that  nonsense  with  Wangen  that 
there  must  be  an  end  of  this;  he  must  set  to 
work  and  make  up  for  what  he  had  lost. 

His  hair  had  grown  a  little  greyer  during 
the  last  few  months,  and  he  was  pale  and  tired; 
it  had  been  rather  trying,  the  way  things  had 
gone  on. 

When  he  had  finished  and  gone  out  on  to 
the  steps  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  Ingeborg 
came  up  to  him,  and  told  him,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  that  the  old  dairymaid  was  dead. 

Norby  put  his  pipe  in  his  waistcoat  pocket 
and  went  across  with  her  to  the  little  cottage. 
The  two  old  farm  men  were  sitting  by  the 
bed  in  the  little  room,  looking  straight  before 
them,  with  their  large  coarse  hands  folded  be- 
tween their  knees.  The  eyes  of  the  one  who 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  277 

had  been  engaged  over  and  over  again  to  the 
dairymaid  were  wet. 

Norby,  too,  stood  and  looked  at  the  old  dead 
servant  with  trembling  lips. 

That  afternoon  he  went  up  over  the  hills  to 
the  little  cottage  where  Lars  Kleven's  widow 
sat  sorrowful.  When  he  entered — he  had  to 
stoop  under  the  ceiling — the  old  woman  was 
sitting  by  her  spinning-wheel.  She  rose  in 
alarm,  thinking,  "He's  come  to  take  the  cot- 
tage from  me  after  all." 

"How  are  you?"  asked  Norby,  sitting  down 
with  his  stick  between  his  knees. 

"Thank  God,  I  can't  complain  of  my 
health,"  she  said  timidly,  "but  I'm  dreading 
the  winter." 

"Well,  the  dairymaid's  leaving  us  now,"  said 
the  old  man,  "and  her  little  room  will  be 
empty.  If  you  can  be  satisfied  with  it,  you 
can  move  into  it  for  the  rest  of  your  days.  I 
think  they  clean  it  to-day,  so  it'll. be  ready  to- 
morrow. And  your  cow  and  fowls — yes — you 
can  bring  them  with  you.  There's  room 
enough." 

The  old  woman  folded  her  hands  and  gazed 


278  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

at  him  in  amazement  for  a  little  while,  before 
she  sank  down  and  burst  into  tears.  But  at 
that  Norby  left ;  he  did  not  like  tears. 

As  he  trudged  homewards  he  had  no  feeling 
of  having  done  anything  good;  he  had  only 
moved  a  thing  into  its  proper  place.  It  is  true 
her  husband  had  let  himself  be  tempted  by 
Wangen  and  his  people,  but  he,  poor  fellow, 
lay  in  his  grave  now,  and  there  was  nothing 
more  to  be  said  about  that. 

On  the  hill  he  sat  down  and  looked  out  over 
the  valley,  which  lay  bathed  in  the  last  gleams 
of  sunshine,  with  long,  blue  shadows  over  the 
lake.  He  sat  there  for  some  time,  his  hands 
resting  upon  his  stick. 

He  felt  as  if  he  had  come  into  a  haven  after 
a  long  storm.  They  had  been  evil  days  and 
sleepless  nights;  but  one  could  not  expect  to 
have  things  always  go  well.  They  had  tried 
every  possible  way  to  injure  him — lies  and 
slander,  newspaper  vulgarity,  riots  at  his 
farm,  and — influencing  Einar.  Well,  well, 
the  boy  should  never  hear  the  slightest  allu- 
sion to  that  matter. 

But  there  was  one  thing  that  the  old  man 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  279 

could  hardly  help  laughing  at,  and  that  was 
that  at  one  time  he  had  really  thought  that 
his  own  hands  were  not  quite  clean.  He 
smiled  now  and  shook  his  head;  it  was  too 
funny.  He  remembered,  too,  now,  that  at 
that  dinner  in  town  Wangen  had  asked  him 
to  stand  surety.  But  that  they  had  then  gone 
to  the  Grand  and  signed ?  It  was  in- 
credible audacity  to  say  such  a  thing! 

It  was  what  his  wife  always  said — he  was 
often  too  kind-hearted,  especially  in  good 
company;  and  because  he  was  kind-hearted, 
he  had  believed  that  if  Wangen  could  go  and 
say  he  had  stood  surety  there  must  be  some- 
thing in  it.  He  did  not  know  then  what  a 
scoundrel  the  fellow  was. 

And  now  at  last  there  would  be  peace  in 
the  district  again,  and  labour  conditions  would 
be  decent  once  more.  Perhaps  some  people 
believed  some  of  the  calumnies  about  him. 
Well,  let  them  believe  them!  He  lived  on 
his  farm,  and  cared  for  no  one. 

But  it  was  hard  on  Wangen's  wife.  They 
said  she  had  taken  to  her  bed  after  the  trial. 

When    Norby    got   home   he    found    Fru 


280  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

Thora  of  Lidarende  in  the  drawing-room. 
She  had  come  to  say  that  half  the  district, 
with  the  authorities  at  their  head,  had  sub- 
scribed to  a  dinner  in  his  honour. 

"Nonsense!"  he  said,  laughing;  for  at  first 
he  would  not  believe  it  at  all,  but  when  she 
asked  what  day  would  suit  him,  he  sighed  and 
considered.  It  must  be  true  then. 

In  a  little  while  he  answered:  "Well — I 
can't  go  to  any  sort  of  entertainment  as  long 
as  some  one  is  lying  dead  here." 

Marit  Norby  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  but 
understood  at  once  that  it  would  be  useless  to 
dispute  the  matter. 

When  Fru  Thora  went  away  she  was  al- 
most disappointed  because  the  old  man  had 
not  been  more  touched  by  the  dinner.  "It's 
possible  to  be  too  proud,"  she  thought. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

at  length  the  day  for  the  dinner  could 
be  fixed,  it  became  a  busy  time  for  Friz 
Thora.  She  managed  to  get  it  agreed  to,  that 
for  once  they  should  try  to  kindle  exhilara- 
tion without  the  aid  of  strong  drink;  there 
should  be  only  home-made  wine  and  milk. 
To  make  up  for  this,  she  got  hold  of  the  best 
members  of  the  young  men's  club,  and  began 
to  rehearse  a  play  that  was  to  be  acted  after 
the  dinner.  She  also  intended  to  decorate 
the  walls  of  the  large  town-hall,  in  which  the 
dinner  was  to  be  held,  in  a  way  that  would 
form  a  suitable  frame  to  the  guest  of  honour. 

When  at  last  the  great  day  arrived  she  was 
both  worn-out  and  nervous;  for,  as  usual 
when  one  person  is  energetic  and  throws  him- 
self heart  and  soul  into  a  matter,  the  other 
members  of  the  dinner-committee  had  sat 
down  and  left  everything  to  her. 

In  the  afternoon  of  that  day  she  heard  that 
Fru  Wangen  was  still  confined  to  her  bed; 

281 


282  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

whereupon  Fru  Thora  very  quickly  made  up 
her  mind  that  she  could  not  take  part  in  any 
gaiety  that  evening  without  first  having  in- 
quired about  the  poor  woman.  If  there  was 
nothing  else  to  be  done,  she  would  offer  to 
take  her  in  for  a  time,  and  the  children  with 
her. 

When  she  came  to  the  little  cottage  among 
the  fir-trees  in  which  the  Wangens  had  last 
lived,  she  found  the  door  locked  and  the  shut- 
ters before  the  windows.  An  uncomfortable 
fear  made  her  actually  run  up  to  the  farm, 
where  she  met  a  girl  who  was  drawing  up 
water  from  a  well. 

"Where  is  Fru  Wangen?"  she  asked. 

"She  is  up  in  an  attic  here,"  said  the  girl. 

"I  suppose  I  can  go  up  to  her?" 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  Fru  Wangen 
would  not  even  speak  to  the  master;  and  both 
the  priest  and  the  doctor  had  come  to  see  her, 
and  she  would  not  see  either  of  them. 

"Oh,  but  do  go  up  and  tell  her  it's  me!" 
said  Fru  Thora. 

The  girl  took  the  bucket  and  went;  but 
when  she  came  out  on  to  the  steps  again,  she 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  283 

shook  her  head.  Fru  Wangen  wanted  to  be 
alone.  Besides,  the  girl  then  added,  she  had 
got  up  and  was  going  to  see  her  children. 

"But  what  is  she  going  to  do  now?"  asked 
Fru  Thora. 

"Nobody  knows,"  said  the  girl.  "She 
doesn't  say  a  word  about  it." 

Fru  Thora  had  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she 
went  homewards.  Of  course  this  dinner  for 
Norby  must  wound  Fru  Wangen,  but  it  real- 
ly could  not  be  helped.  Guilt  is  guilt,  and 
reparation  must  be  made  to  the  innocent. 

It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  and  the  dinner 
was  at  seven.  The  last  loads  of  hay  had  been 
driven  in  from  the  fields,  and  the  well-raked 
hills  had  taken  on  a  soft,  dark  green  colour; 
while  the  leafy  slopes  had  here  and  there  be- 
gun to  get  golden  patches,  upon  which  the 
sun  shone. 

When,  at  about  six  o'clock,  the  first  car- 
riages drove  up  towards  the  town-hall,  they 
met  near  the  fjord  a  tall,  pale  woman,  hur- 
rying along  with  bent  head.  It  was  Fru 
Wangen.  Her  little,  faded  straw  hat  seemed 
to  have  been  put  on  in  a  hurry,  and  stood  off 


284  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

too  much  from  her  head,  raised  by  the  quan- 
tity of  fair  hair  that  still  lay  like  a  crown 
above  her  pale,  beautiful  face. 

When  she  got  out  to  the  ridge  that  de- 
scends steeply  to  the  fjord,  she  saw  no  more 
carriages  in  front  of  her,  and  seated  herself 
upon  a  stone  by  the  wayside.  She  rested  her 
elbows  on  her  knees,  and  her  chin  in  her 
hands,  and  gazed  out  over  the  fjord,  whose 
calm  surface  reflected  the  red  clouds  in  the 
sky. 

When  she  had  seen  the  children,  where 
should  she  go? — what  should  she  do?  Could 
she  keep  both  herself  and  them?  Or — oh  no, 
she  ought  not  to  think  of  that  now;  for  think- 
ing was  what  she  could  not  and  dared  not  do. 
She  passed  her  hand  across  her  forehead  and 
sighed.  "I  must  take  care,"  she  thought, 
"that  what  is  in  there  doesn't  get  loose,  for 
then  I  might  go  mad ;  and  then  I  shouldn't  be 
allowed  even  to  see  the  children." 

She  had  had  a  letter  from  Wangen  that 
day;  he  said  that  he  was  trying  to  obtain  a 
pardon.  But  she  was  not  equal  to  further 
faith;  she  could  not  believe  in  his  innocence 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  285 

any  more.  If  he  had  only  confessed  it  at 
first,  at  any  rate  to  her!  But  now!  Her 
father  had  been  right.  Her  father!  The 
whole  thing  overwhelmed  her  like  a  terrible 
darkness. 

Suddenly  she  started  up  and  hurried  on. 
She  must  manage  to  reach  the  children  before 
dark,  for  she  dared  not  be  out  alone  when  it 
was  dark. 

When  the  carriage  drove  down  the  avenue 
from  Norby  Farm,  the  two  daughters  sat  op- 
posite their  parents,  and  Einar  with  the 
coachman  on  the  box.  Einar  had  come  home 
quite  unexpectedly.  That  evening  when  he 
rowed  across  to  Buvik  Sseter  he  had  met 
with  a  great  disappointment.  The  doctor's 
daughter  had  left  for  the  valley  that  after- 
noon. 

From  that  time  Einar  founH  it  unbearable 
up  on  the  mountains.  It  was  no  help  now, 
in  his  expeditions  over  the  moors,  to  look  over 
to  Buvik  Sseter.  The  disgrace  he  had  fled 
from  now  met  him  both  out  of  doors  and  in- 
doors; and  his  eagerness  to  reach  this  young 
woman  thereby  became  greater  than  ever.  So 


286  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

he  packed  up  his  things  and  set  off.  He  must 
catch  her  up;  he  must  know  for  a  certainty 
whether  she  cared  for  him  or  not. 

At  home  he  settled  down  in  a  wonderful 
way.  The  good  conscience  that  every  one 
there  had  was  infectious ;  and  he  could  not  but 
feel  glad  that  his  parents  should  now  be  re- 
warded for  all  their  troubles  with  this  dinner. 
It  was  high  time  that  he,  too,  gave  up  his 
ugly  suspicion. 

As  he  sat  upon  the  box,  he  gazed  at  the  car- 
riages that  were  driving  up  to  the  flag-deco- 
rated town-hall.  Would  she  be  there  this 
evening? 

Marit  Norby  looked  handsome  as  she  sat 
leaning  a  little  towards  her  husband,  dressed 
in  a  silk  dress  and  light  straw  bonnet.  Knut, 
however,  was  by  no  means  happy;  for  as  he 
grew  to  feel  himself  more  and  more  firmly  in 
the  right,  he  had  become  more  indifferent  to 
the  respect  of  the  district.  Fancy  if  people 
were  making  this  fuss  because  they  were  sorry 
for  him!  In  that  case  he  would  like  to  tell 
them  that  they  were  mistaken.  There  was 
nothing  the  matter  with  him  yet.  Neverthe- 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  287 

less,  as  he  saw  carriage  after  carriage  drive 
up  to  the  town-hall  a  smile  played  about  the 
corners  of  his  mouth;  for  he  was  thinking  of 
Mads  Herlufsen.  Would  he  come?  Or  was 
he  sitting  at  home  sulking?  In  that  case 
Norby  would  like  to  see  him. 

As  they  drove  into  the  yard  of  the  town- 
hall,  Einar  saw  the  doctor's  gig  driving  away. 
There  was  room  for  only  two  in  it,  the  doctor 
and  his  wife,  so  she  was  not  there.  He  had 
been  so  anxious  about  this  for  days  and 
nights  past  that  the  disappointment  was  very 
great,  and  for  a  moment  he  lost  all  desire  to 
go  in.  Something  awoke  in  him  that  shook 
him  and  said:  "What  are  you  about,  Einar?" 

Between  two  flags  on  the  steps  stood  the 
bailiff  and  Fru  Thora  of  Lidarende  to  re- 
ceive the  guests  of  honour;  and  Einar  slowly 
followed  the  others  up  the  steps. 

Laura,  who  to-day  was  wearing  her  first 
light  silk  dress,  grew  suddenly  red  when  she 
noticed  a  beardless  youth  standing  in  the 
passage  and  looking  at  her.  It  was  the 
bailiff's  son,  who  had  just  taken  his  degree 
in  forestry.  "I  wonder  if  he  will  take  me  in 


288  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

to  dinner!"  she  thought,  her  heart  beginning 
to  beat. 

The  only  person  who  lived  in  the  town-hall 
building  was  the  midwife  of  the  district,  who 
had  two  rooms  in  one  wing.  There  the  pas- 
tor's wife  was  now  busy,  at  the  head  of  a 
flock  of  maids,  serving  the  dinner.  She  was 
both  angry  and  in  despair,  because  the  Rail- 
way Hotel,  which  was  providing  the  dinner, 
had  forgotten  to  send  gravy  with  the  joint, 
and  now  a  servant  came  and  said  that  Norby 
had  come,  and  that  people  were  sitting  down 
to  table. 

"Who's  asked  them  to  sit  down  to  table?" 
cried  the  pastor's  wife.  "A  nice  dinner-com- 
mittee they  are!"  And  she  rushed  to  the 
telephone  and  rang  up  violently.  "Hullo! 
Are  you  never  going  to  let  us  have  that 
gravy?" 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHEN  Norby  entered  the  hall,  the  first  thing 
he  noticed  was  that  Herluf  sen  was  not  among 
the  guests;  but  all  the  other  magnates  were 
there,  and  there  was  a  general  greeting  when 
he  appeared. 

It  was  a  large,  airy  hall,  and  the  setting 
sun  shone  through  the  long  windows  that 
looked  out  upon  the  fjord,  and  formed  three 
broad  bands  of  light  across  the  floor,  upon 
which  the  festively  attired  guests  moved, 
either  through  the  dark  or  through  the  gold. 
There  was  a  hum  of  conversation,  and  there 
was  a  continual  cracking  of  whips  outside, 
where  fresh  carriages  were  driving  up  to  the 
steps  or  off  towards  the  roads. 

Among  the  dress-coated  farmers,  who  cau- 
tiously kept  close  to  the  walls,  while  they 
glanced  at  the  long  table  decorated  with  flow- 
ers, strutted  the  owner  of  the  saw-mills,  a 
stout  man,  with  a  gold  chain  dangling  upon 
his  expansive  waistcoast.  He  laughed  loudly, 

289 


290  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

and  his  red  face  shone ;  for  when  he  had  heard 
that  there  was  nothing  to  be  got  here  but 
home-made  wine,  he  had  indulged  a  little  be- 
fore he  left  home.  "Ladies  and  gentlemen," 
he  said,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  "I  don't 
think  you're  in  a  properly  festive  mood  yet." 

The  magistrate,  a  stout  man  with  silvery 
hair  and  beard,  took  Norby  by  the  arm  and 
pointed  out  the  walls.  They  were  decorated 
with  flags  and  garlands  of  leaves;  and  here 
and  there,  in  place  of  arms,  were  old,  artistic 
domestic  articles,  such  as  painted  and  carved 
harness  and  saddles,  wooden  spoons  and  bowls 
with  flowers  painted  on  them.  Fru  Thora 
had  lent  the  rudiments  of  her  country  mu- 
seum. 

"Look  here!"  said  the  magistrate,  with  a 
pleasant  little  laugh.  "Isn't  that  pretty? 
There's  Norwegian  nature  in  the  greenery, 
freedom  in  the  flags,  and  our  Northern  cul- 
ture in  all  the  rest.  The  combination  forms 
a  beautiful  harmony." 

"Yes,  it's  quite  pretty,"  said  Norby,  with  a 
slight  yawn.  Suddenly  he  felt  his  coat-tails 
pulled,  and  turning  round  he  found  two  old 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  291 

acquaintances  smiling  at  him,  both  farmers 
from  up  the  valley,  who  had  been  jurymen  at 
the  trial. 

"What,  have  you  come  all  this  way?"  said 
Norby,  taking  them  by  the  hand. 

They  told  him  that  Wangen  was  supposed 
to  be  busy  upon  a  fresh  newspaper  article', 
which  accused  the  jurymen  of  partiality,  and 
when  they  heard  that,  they  were  so  angry 
that — that  they  set  their  teeth  and  came  to  the 
dinner  too. 

But  now  Norby  was  led  to  the  table.  At 
one  end  of  the  long  table  a  kind  of  raised  seat 
had  been  arranged  for  the  guest  of  honour; 
and  on  one  side  of  him  sat  his  wife,  on  the 
other  the  wife  of  the  magistrate.  When  he 
looked  down  the  table,  and  all  the  handsome 
women  in  gay  silk  bodices,  and  male  notorie- 
ties with  wide  shirt-fronts,  he  could  not  help 
turning  his  head  to  his  wife  and  whispering: 
"This  is  just  like  what  we  had  at  our  silver 
wedding." 

During  the  soup,  Einar  got  into  a  discus- 
sion with  a  member  of  the  Storthing,  who  sat 
opposite  him.  Several  others  took  part  in  the 


292  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

discussion,  and  Einar  grew  angry,  but  sud- 
denly he  felt  as  if  an  invisible  hand  had  struck 
him,  and  a  voice  within  him  said:  "Yes,  be 
severe  in  your  judgment  of  others,  Einar,  you 
who  are  such  a  hero  yourself!"  And  he  in- 
stantly bowed  his  head  and  was  silent;  and 
he  felt  the  blood  mount  to  his  face. 

Laura,  true  enough,  had  been  paired  with 
the  bailiff's  son;  and  though  he  had  not  yet 
noticed  her  new  dress,  she  still  felt  that  every- 
thing was  wrapped  in  a  wonderful  golden 
mist,  and  she  had  a  vague  notion  that  this  was 
her  own  wedding. 

"After  dinner  you  must  help  me  with  some- 
thing," he  said  to  her. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  curiously,  as  she 
tried  to  push  an  obstinate  wave  of  hair  off 
her  forehead. 

"I  won't  tell  you  now.    You  must  wait." 

When  the  joint  was  served,  the  schoolmas- 
ter rose  and  tapped  his  glass.  This  was  Fru 
Thora's  great  moment,  and  she  felt  her  heart 
beat  with  joy  and  pride,  for  there  had  been 
so  much  ill-will  between  the  schoolmaster 
Heggen  and  Knut  Norby.  Now  Heggen  was 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  293 

standing  there,  and  was  going  to  make  a 
speech  in  honour  of  his  enemy.  This  was  her 
work.  And  there  had  been  many  misunder- 
standings between  the  schoolmaster  and  the 
old  magistrate;  but  she  had  made  Heggen 
take  the  magistrate's  daughter  in  to  dinner; 
for  they  should  all  be  friends  this  evening, 
and  learn  to  understand  one  another. 

Looking  at  the  speaker,  "Isn't  he  hand- 
some?" she  whispered  to  the  gentleman  who 
had  taken  her  in.  The  sun  was  just  sinking, 
and  its  last  rays  played  upon  the  glass  on 
the  table,  and  made  the  tulips  in  the  large 
bouquets  glow. 

Forks  were  laid  down  and  faces  turned 
towards  the  schoolmaster's  tall  figure.  His 
voice  vibrated  with  emotion,  and  Fru  Thora 
thought  she  had  never  heard  him  speak  so 
beautifully  as  now  when  he  was  making  a 
speech  in  honour  of  his  old  enemy.  He  called 
this  dinner  an  event  in  the  district.  He  held 
his  glass  in  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  fin- 
gered his  long  beard,  and  looked  at  nothing 
in  particular  through  his  spectacles,  while  the 


294  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

sun  threw  a  ray  of  light  across  his  fine  fore- 
head. 

This  was  an  event,  because  he  had  never 
seen  so  many  dissimilar  people  united  in  a 
common  object,  a  common  desire  to  do  good. 
There  were  still  Birkebeins  and  Baglers  to 
divide  people  in  this  country;  but  this  eve- 
ning he  seemed  to  read  a  message  of  spring  in 
this  festive  meeting.  Like  Olaf  at  Stikle- 
stad,  he  seemed  to  be  looking  out  over  the 
whole  country  with  its  blue  hills  and  shining 
fjords,  over  farms  and  lands,  and  into  the 
many  minds ;  and  he  descried  the  day  when  all 
men  would  be  united  in  a  sabbath  atmosphere, 
with  hands  joined  in  brotherhood,  united  in 
waging  war  against  the  powers  of  evil,  united 
in  helping  those  who  had  suffered  wrong. 
"Whatever  religion  we  profess,  or  party  we 
belong  to,  we  shall  henceforward  agree  in  con- 
sidering that  the  human  in  man  is  higher  than 
all  difference  of  opinion;  and  when  the  human 
being,  Norby,  suffers  persecution  and  deroga- 
tion, as  he  has  lately  done,  we  hasten  to  him, 
enclose  him  in  a  chain  of  fraternity,  and  say: 
*Here  are  we,  your  brothers  and  sisters,  Knut 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  295 

Norby;  we  will  wash  you  clean.  Here  we 
are!'" 

Scarcely  a  breath  was  heard  during  the  im- 
pressive speech,  until  the  sound  of  gentle 
weeping  was  heard  a  little  way  up  the  table. 
It  was  Fru  Heggen,  who  always  cried  when 
her  husband  made  a  speech. 

Gradually  several  faces  turned  from  the 
speaker  to  the  guests  of  the  evening.  Fru 
Norby  sat  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  and 
smiled;  but  Norby  looked  down,  and  modest- 
ly shook  his  head,  as  if  to  say,  "You  mustn't 
say  anything  more,  Heggen." 

When  at  length  the  speech  came  to  an  end, 
and  the  guests  rose  to  drink  with  the  guests 
of  honour,  the  saw-mill  owner  roared:  "Long 
live  Norby  and  Fru  Norby!  Hip,  hip!" 
And  his  abandonment  to  the  spirit  of  the  oc- 
casion was  quickly  followed,  and  the  hurrahs 
rang.  v 

Ingeborg  sat  and  looked  on  with  tears  in 
her  eyes.  Her  joy  was  unbounded:  she 
thought  how  patiently  her  father  had  borne 
all  the  persecution;  she  thought  of  her  pray- 
ers, and  involuntarily  looked  upwards,  say- 


296  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

ing  to  herself:  "My  God,  I  thank  Thee  for 
answering  my  prayers."  She  seemed  to  see  a 
host  of  good,  protecting  spirits  above  the 
heads  of  her  parents  up  there.  Her  mother 
looked  at  her;  they  both  had  tears  in  their 
eyes  and  smiled.  They  remembered  the  night 
when  they  dared  not  go  to  bed  after  the  riots 
at  Norby. 

To  Marit  Norby  it  seemed  now  as  if  all 
evil,  all  suspicion  were  melting  and  must  be 
wept  out;  and  it  felt  so  delightful  that  she 
could  not  help  smiling  all  the  time. 

But  worse  was  to  come,  when  Fru  Thora 
of  Lidarende  rose,  after  the  knives  and  forks 
had  clattered  for  a  time,  and  made  a  speech 
in  her  honour.  It  was  a  woman's  and  a  moth- 
er's heart  beating  with  hers.  Mention  was 
made  of  her  struggle  to  keep  up  her  husband's 
courage  in  adversity,  even  while  she  was  nurs- 
ing her  son  through  a  dangerous  illness.  It 
was  a  great  deed,  a  woman's  heroic  action, 
such  as  is  seldom  mentioned  at  festive  enter- 
tainments, but  is  often,  very  often,  performed 
in  secret. 

No  one  had  ever  heard  such  eloquence  in  a 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  297 

woman.  She  stood  there,  slim,  youthful  in 
appearance  despite  her  five-and-forty  years, 
full  of  fire  and  warmth  of  feeling.  Her  hear- 
ers were  astonished  that  this  feeling  did  not 
overwhelm  her  and  make  her  burst  into  tears ; 
but  she  stood  and  smiled  all  the  time,  al- 
though her  eyes  were  wet.  Every  one  had 
to  acknowledge  that  she  was  handsome,  in  her 
plain  black  dress  and  little  white  lace  collar 
about  her  neck.  It  was  no  wonder  that  she 
showed  feeling,  for  she  was  thinking  all  the 
time  of  her  own  son,  the  little  Gunnar  of 
Lidarende,  who  was  in  bed  with  whooping- 
cough. 

The  toasting  and  cheers  for  Fru  Norby 
were  deafening;  but  she  burst  into  audible 
weeping,  for  it  was  true.  It  had  been  a  hard 
time. 

At  the  mention  of  his  mother  and  his  ill- 
ness, Einar  was  also  touched,  and  went  up 
and  drank  *gith  his  parents. 

It  had  gradually  grown  so  dark  that  the 
large  hanging  lamps  over  the  table  had  to  be 
lighted;  and  although  there  was  nothing  but 
home-made  wine,  spirits  had  risen,  so  that 


298  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

most  of  the  faces  shone  red  in  the  lamp-light, 
the  conversation  was  lively,  and  the  laughter 
resounded. 

The  two  jurymen  were  seated  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  table.  One  of  them  now  said  cau- 
tiously to  the  other:  "Isn't  it  customary  to 
chair  the  guest  of  honour?" 

"We  mustn't  be  in  a  hurry,"  said  the  other 
as  cautiously. 

"What  was  it  we  called  Norby,  when  we 
were  at  the  agricultural  school  with  him?" 

"Fatty,"  said  the  other,  surreptitiously 
taking  up  a  bone  in  his  fingers.  His  compan- 
ion began  to  laugh;  for  it  was  so  amusing  to 
think  that  they  had  once  been  so  intimate 
with  Norby  as  to  call  him  "Fatty." 

But  now  a  silence  fell  on  the  assembly 
when  Norby  kimself  tapped  his  glass.  He 
rose,  a  little  red  in  the  If  ace,  and  looked,  first 
at  Marit  and  then  at  the  company  assembled. 
His  voice  was  hoarse  when  he  sa^:  "I  must 
return  thanks  both  for^  myself  and  my  wife. 
And  now  I  will  ask  you  to  drink  to  the  health 
of  one  of  whom  I  cannot  help  thinking  this 
evening — the  judge."  And  when  the  health 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  299 

had  been  drunk,  Fru  Thora  cried  enthusias- 
tically: "Long  live  the  Judge  I  Long  live 
the  jury!" 

This  evoked  loud  applause,  and  the  saw- 
mill owner  led  the  enthusiasm  with  his  "hip, 
hip."  One  of  the  jurymen  started  up,  say- 
ing: "Come!  Now  we'll  take  him!"  "Don't 
be  in  a  hurry!"  said  the  other.  "Yes,"  said 
the  first.  "We'll  show  people  that  we  repu- 
diate Wangen's  charge  of  partiality!" 

At  this  the  other  rose,  too,  and  they  both 
stole  up  to  take  Norby  by  the  arms.  At  first 
the  old  man  resisted  strenuously,  but  when 
one  of  the  jurymen  said:  'Come  now,  Fatty," 
memories  of  younger  days  were  called  up, 
and  he  laughed  and  gave  in.  The  whole  com- 
pany shouted  when  he  was  carried  round; 
and  when  he  had  got  back  to  his  seat,  Fru 
Thora  got  up  and  said  to  a  young  farmer's 
wife:  "Then  Fru  Norby  shall  be  carried 
round  too!'\  And  they  rushed  up  and  took 
Marit  by  the  arms,  and  the  enthusiasm  in- 
creased, except  with  the  saw-mill  owner, 
where  it  gradually  began  to  come  to  a  sad 
end.  While  the  others  grew  merrier  as  they 


300  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

ate  and  drank  home-made  wine,  his  spirits  be- 
gan to  go  down  more  and  more,  and  he  whis- 
pered to  the  magistrate:  "Don't  you  think 
we  shall  have  a  little  something  with  the  cof- 
fee?" 

The  magistrate  shook  his  head,  and  the 
mill-owner  sighed  deeply  and  wiped  his  fore- 
head. 

"I  say/'  said  Norby  to  his  wife;  "it's 
strange  that  Herlufsen  isn't  here!" 

"How  naughty  you  are!"  whispered  Marit, 
laughing;  and  the  old  man  chuckled. 

More  speeches  followed,  the  best  being  one 
by  a  young  teacher  in  honour  of  his  country. 
The  national  song  was  then  sung  standing, 
several  taking  parts;  and  finally  Pastor  Bor- 
ring  rose.  He  knew  that  he  was  expected  to 
say  something,  and  although  his  presence  had 
been  well  considered,  he  felt  strangely  op- 
pressed. After  Wangen  had  made  use  of  a 
forged  letter  in  court,  he  understood  of  course 
that  his  first  supposition  had  been  correct, 
and  that  Lars  Kleven's  confession  had  only 
been  the  crotchet  of  a  dying  man ;  but  never- 
theless he  could  not  help  thinking  of  Wan- 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  301 

gen,  and  to  the  surprise  of  every  one  he  now 
began  to  speak  of  him.  He  asked  those  pres- 
ent to  give  a  sympathetic  thought  to  the  un- 
fortunate man  who  was  guilty.  It  had  been 
rightly  said  this  evening  that  they  should  join 
hands  round  him  who  is  innocent.  Quite 
right!  But  let  them  also,  if  only  in  spirit,  at 
the  same  time  join  hands  round  him  who  was 
guilty.  He  stood  most  in  need  of  reparation 

and  help.  And  his  wife ;  but  here  the 

pastor  could  say  no  more,  and  sat  down;  and 
there  were  tears  in  several  eyes. 

A  fresh  astonishment  was  created  when 
Norby  tapped  his  glass,  and  rising  said:  "I 
propose  that  we  start  a  list  to  make  a  collec- 
tion for  Fru  Wangen.  I  will  do  what  I  can 
myself.  We  must  remember  that  she  is  left 
with  three  children  unprovided  for!" 

There  was  a  pause  when  he  sat  down. 
People  looked  at  one  another  with  eyes  that 
said:  "He's  a  man  in  a  thousand!" 


CHAPTER  X 

AFTER  the  sweets  came  coffee,  and  the  con- 
versation was  soon  being  carried  on  through 
clouds  of  tobacco-smoke. 

"Do  you  know  who  Norby  is  like?"  said 
Fru  Thora  to  her  neighbour,  who  was  the 
*  magistrate. 

The  magistrate  looked  up  with  his  cigar  in 
his  mouth,  and  answered:  "No — at  least, 
yes " 

"Don't  you  see  he's  like  Garibaldi?" 

"Well,  now  you  say  it,"  said  the  magis- 
trate. 

All  down  the  table  the  talk  was  exclusively 
of  Norby.  It  came  naturally.  Two  farmers 
told  of  the  King's  last  journey  through  the 
district,  when  Norby  quietly  went  up  and 
took  him  by  the  hand  and  bade  him  welcome 
to  the  district.  Einar  had  to  tell  the  bailiff's 
wife  about  his  grandfather,  Ingeborg  was 
questioned  about  her  mother;  the  magistrate 
praised  the  old  man  for  his  skill  in  the  game 

302 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  303 

of  boston;  an  estate  administrator  told  about 
a  probate  case  in  which  Norby  was  arbitrator, 
and  how  clever  he  was  in  bringing  people  to 
reason;  the  doctor  sat  and  talked  about  the 
shape  of  the  old  man's  head,  and  especially 
the  sign  of  race  in  the  forehead.  There  was  a 
buzz  of  homage  in  the  form  of  little  sympa- 
thetic touches  unearthed  from  the  memories 
of  all  present  and  held  up  to  view;  and  at  last 
the  old  man  was  raised  higher  and  higher, 
borne  as  it  were  by  all  that  was  wept,  said, 
sung,  and  felt  there  this  evening — elevated 
upon  a  golden  cloud  of  sympathy  and  admira- 
tion. 

Einar  alone  had  grown  coldly  serious  at  the 
pastor's  speech,  and  various  questions  thronged 
in  upon  him.  Through  all  the  rosy  clouds 
that  enveloped  this  table  he  seemed  to  get  a 
glimpse  into — something  different. 

The  best  feelings  and  ideals  of  every  one 
seemed  to  have  met  this  evening  to  pay  hom- 
age to  his  father;  and  he  no  longer  dared  to 
think  whether  his  father  were  the  guilty  one 

or  not.  But  if Could  it  be  that  the  most 

sacred  human  feelings  and  ideals  were  com- 


304  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

pletely  blind,  so  that  they  could  just  as  easily 
lend  themselves  to  glorify  a  crime,  a  black 
lie?  Could  it  be?  Surely  not!  Was  it  no 
guarantee  when  people's  words  were  glowing 
with  the  whole  warmth  of  their  heart,  when 
their  eyes  were  wet  and  their  voices  trembled 
with  emotion?  Was  that  so?  Surely  not! 

But  if Was  it  no  excuse  to  have  done  a 

thing  in  all  good  faith?  For  the  fact  remain- 
ed that  if  people  crowned  the  criminal,  and 
threw  the  innocent  into  prison,  good  faith 
was  the  most  terrible  thing  of  all;  for  it  com- 
mitted its  bad  actions  with  Divine  good  con- 
science, and  every  one  laid  down  their  arms 
before  it.  Was  it  so?  And  did  all  such  forces 
as  God,  one's  country,  philanthropy,  Chris- 
tianity, lend  themselves  as  garments  to  adorn 
the  wrong-doer  and  honour  the  lie?  No,  no! 
it  must  not,  could  not,  be  so.  But  that  was 
why  there  was  so  much  wrong  done  in  the 
world.  The  wet  eyes,  the  warm  tones,  the 
glowing  hearts,  always  formed  a  defensive 
covering  for  that  which  was  bad.  Was  it 
so? 

And  what  about  himself?    Had  not  his  best 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  305 

feelings  for  his  parents  made  him  a— —  He 
dared  not  think  the  word. 

It  must  not,  it  could  not,  be  sol  He  in- 
voluntarily wished  there  were  strong  drink  in 
his  glass,  and  that  he  could  drink  himself  into 
a  happy  mood  with  wine  as  the  others  did  with 
their  speeches. 

He  raised  his  glass,  and  tried  to  smile  at 
Ingeborg.  She  raised  hers  in  return,  while 
she  thought,  "Thank  God  that  Einar  was  un- 
deceived!" 

Suddenly  some  one  said:  "Oh,  look  out 
there!"  Several  rose  from  the  table  and 
went  to  the  windows.  Against  the  dark  fjord, 
that  reflected  the  starry  sky,  a  gleaming 
rocket  rose  into  the  air,  while  another  was  al- 
ready raining  down  in  fiery  sparks  of  many 
colours.  A  new  one  rose,  and  in  its  first  bril- 
liant blaze  Laura  could  be  seen  bare-headed 
and  in  her  silk  dress,  and  by  her  side  the  bail- 
iff's son. 

There  were  several  exclamations,  and  Inge- 
borg said:  "Oh,  indeed!  That  was  why 
Laura  had  a  headache  and  had  to  go  out!" 

A  fresh  rocket  blazed  up  and  illuminated 


306  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

the  two  standing  in  the  dark,  just  as  Laura 
took  hold  of  the  young  man's  arm  to  draw 
him  a  little  way  from  the  rocket.  It  was  her 
first  tender  care  for  him.  Then  it  was  dark 
once  more  about  them,  while  the  fiery  sparks 
rained  down  from  the  sky,  reflected  all  the 
time  in  the  dark,  still  fjord,  into  which  they 
finally  fell. 

'TLook!"  cried  those  at  the  windows.  "Oh, 
look!"  "Oh,  that  was  lovely!"  "Both  blue 
and  red!"  And  all  the  time  momentary 
flashes  of  light  gleamed  upon  the  two  young 
people,  who  stood  there  and  sent  up  bright 
messengers  into  the  sky  in  the  still  eve- 
ningr 

When  at  last  this  was  over  the  lamps  in  the 
hall  were  suddenly  extinguished.  A  tittering 
was  heard,  and  a  few  indignant  ladies'  voices ; 
but  suddenly  a  curtain  was  drawn  aside,  and 
revealed  a  Norwegian  mountain  landscape  il- 
luminated by  paraffin  lamps. 

"Goodness  me!"  thought  Einar.  "Are  we 
going  to  have  that  old  play  that  everybody 
knows?" 

But  all  at  once  a  young  girl  in  Norwegian 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  307 

costume  came  forward  and  began  to  talk  to 
an  old  man.  It  was — Einar  gazed  in  per- 
plexity— it  was  she!  It  was  the  doctor's 
young  daughter.  That  was  why  she  had  not 
been  at  the  dinner,  then.  She  had  perhaps 
been  rehearsing  up  to  the  last  moment. 

Sore  and  despondent  and  disturbed  as 
Einar  was  already,  this  surprise  threw  him 
into  the  greatest  agitation.  His  heart  beat, 
and  something  warm  began  to  run  through 
his  limbs.  There  she  was!  And  how  lovely 
she  was  in  that  dress!  And  gradually  the  oil- 
lamps  turned  into  sunshine,  and  the  ridiculous 
decorations  into  actual  wood  and  mountain; 
and  the  good  patriotic  moral  of  the  play  acted 
upon  him  with  a  wonderful  power. 

But  when  the  young  girl  went  off  the  stage 
the  piece  seemed  to  lose  its  interest,  and  he 
turned  to  Fru  Thora  with  the  question  wheth- 
er there  was  to  be  dancing  afterwards.  "Yes," 
she  said.  Good!  He  would  ask  the  doctor 
whether  his  daughter  might  stay,  if  he  prom- 
ised to  see  her  home.  Perhaps  it  might  turn 
out  a  wonderful  evening  for  him  yet. 


CHAPTER  XI 

KNUT  NORBY  drove  home  through  the  still 
night  with  Marit  and  Ingeborg,  as  the  other 
two  stayed  on  for  the  dancing.  A  golden 
moon  had  risen  above  the  hills  in  the  east,  and 
shone  upon  the  waving  cornfields  and  the  calm 
fjord.  It  was  such  good  weather  just  now 
for  the  crops  that  it  promised  to  be  a  good 
harvest;  and  as  Knut  sat  there  he  was  filled 
with  a  gentle  peace,  and  felt  a  desire  to  thank 
God. 

As  they  passed  the  churchyard,  he  looked 
in  involuntarily.  Who  could  tell  how  soon  he 
might  be  lying  there?  It  was  better  to  make 
good  use  of  the  time  while  one  had  it.  Lars 
Kleven  lay  there  now — he  who  so  wanted  to 
lie  quiet  in  his  grave.  Well,  God  grant  he 
might  have  peace!  And  there  lay  the  dairy- 
maid in  her  freshly  made  grave,  and  was  per- 
haps dreaming  now  in  the  early  morning  that 
she  had  to  get  up  to  go  to  the  cows. 

A  warm  wind  sighed  on  the  leafy  slopes, 

308 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  809 

and  brought  a  scent  of  fermenting  hay  from 
the  lofts  about.  Mountain  and  lake  lay  in  a 
great  calm  peace, 

"Thank  God!"  said  Ingeborg,  looking  up 
at  the  stars ;  and  they  all  three  sat  with  the 
same  feeling,  and  words  were  unnecessary. 

When  at  length  they  drove  into  the  yard, 
Knut  saw  that  the  flag  was  still  up;  the  ser- 
vants had  forgotten  to  take  it  down.  But 
Norby  did  not  get  angry  now;  he  could  take 
it  down  himself. 

When  he  called  for  some  one  to  take  the 
horse,  no  one  came. 

"Have  they  all  gone  to  bed?"  said  Marit,  a 
little  out  of  humour. 

"Oh  well,"  said  Norby,  "it's  not  much  to  be 
wondered  at;  they  have  to  be  up  in  the  morn- 
ing." And  he  began  to  unharness  the  horse 
himself. 

When  at  length  he  came  up  to  the  bed- 
room, Marit  already  lay  yawning  in  bed,  but 
Norby  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  floor, 
with  his  thumbs  hooked  into  the  armholes  of 
his  waistcoat.  He  was  in  far  too  good 
humour  to  go  to  bed  at  once. 


310  The  Power  of  a  Lie 

"Ah  well,"  said  Marit  quietly,  "this  can  be 
an  example  to  others,  and  encourage  people 
to  be  patient  and  enduring." 

"Yes,"  said  Norby,  stopping  at  the  win- 
dow, where  he  could  see  the  fjord  in  the 
moonlight,  "the  main  thing  is  to  act  honour- 
ably and  uprightly."  In  a  little  while  he  said : 
"I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  I  seem  to  have 
been  away  from  Norby  for  a  long  time,  and 
only  to  have  properly  come  home  again  now." 

"Dear  me,  yes!"  yawned  Marit.  "But  it 
has  been  a  hard  time." 

Norby  still  looked  out  over  the  lake  in  the 
moonlight.  "There  must  have  been  some  pur- 
pose in  it  all,"  he  said.  "I  may  often  have 
acted  with  too  great  severity,  but  now  I  think 
it  will  be  better  for  every  one  in  the  district. 
I  shall  do  my  part,  at  any  rate." 

His  wife  did  not  answer:  presumably  she 
was  too  tired. 

When  at  last  Norby  got  into  bed,  he  folded 
his  hands  and  said  a  couple  of  verses  of  a 
hymn.  He  felt  so  near  to  God;  and  the  re- 
spect and  sympathy  of  the  whole  district  now 


The  Power  of  a  Lie  811 

shone  into  his  conscience,  but  hfe  would  thank 
God  for  it  all. 

"But  there  is  one  thing  I  can't  under- 
stand/' he  thought  after  a  while,  "and  that  is 
how  people  can  stand  like  Wangen  with  a 
calm  face  and  lie  in  court.  God  help  those 
who  have  no  more  conscience  than  to  do  it!" 


THE  END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY— TEL.  NO.  642-3405 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate* 

— ~      " 


LOAN- 


LD  21A-38m-5,'68 
(J401slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


